Purple Elks
by pizzamargherita
Summary: Legolas and Tauriel's first meeting OR two little elflings decide to hate each other at first sight. By now this story has turned into a long-term chronicle of their friendship - or whatever it is they have :)
1. Prologue

Darkness. Pain. The taste of blood in her mouth. The echo of the screams still in her ears though they have long been silenced.

The little girl leans against a tree to catch her breath. She has been running for what seems an eternity, she has lost all sense of time and direction. She starts to feel the pain in her lungs and her legs. Her hands clasp the wooden handle of her father's knife. She knows she will not be able to defend herself if they come back but she needs something to hold on to, something to let her know that this is real, not just a nightmare, as much as she wishes it was. Her mind has stopped working long ago but an instinct deep inside her keeps her body functioning.

Spiders. Dozens of them. Huge black bodies, long bristled legs, fangs as sharp as razors – and eyes, far too many pale, empty eyes.

A new wave of terror overflows her body. She starts running again but she trips over a root and finds herself on the leaf-covered ground, shaking and unable to get back up. She takes a deep breath. The familiar smell of earth and moss provides a strange comfort. The mindless panic slowly fades, giving way to an all-embracing emptiness, and the girl's senses sink into warm, soft, merciful blackness.

* * *

"She's hurt. Hilion, look! Is that a spider bite?" "Call the captain!" "Let's go, and watch out for the rest of the beasts!"

The girl can hear voices but she is unable to open her eyes. Someone picks her up but she does not even care. Her face rests against the smooth leather of the man's armour. She feels blood running down her cheek. A moment later, the world goes dark again.


	2. Purple Elks

It was a warm summer morning, so Nimiel had enjoyed her short walk to the forest clearing where the healers cultivated medical plants. It was one of the few places where some shy rays of sunlight still reached the ground. The rest of the forest had grown so dusky, so depressingly dark that she hardly ever ventured away from the palace on her own any more, except for picking herbs to refill her medical supply. Nimiel remembered happier times when the forest had been green and full of life. But of course, she thought, many centuries had passed since then. She sighed and walked on, a bittersweet smile on her face.

The first patient she was going to visit that day would be the girl who had survived the spider attack on the little settlement near the southern border of the kingdom. Eighteen people had been killed by the beasts and it was a miracle that this child had managed to escape and survive in the forest for two days before the guards found her. Nimiel had done her very best to heal the bruises and spider bites the girl had suffered and of course she had done an excellent job. But there was a much deeper wound in the little girl's soul which was not even close to healing. A whole month had passed since the guards had brought her to the houses of healing but still she had not spoken a single word. Nimiel cared about each and every one of her patients but this child's fate touched her more deeply than any battle-slain hero she had attended in four thousand years.

She entered the palace through the main gate and crossed the inner courtyard. It was a busy place, even in the early morning hours. People were walking from here to there, chatting and shouting assignments to each other, attending their daily business. When she reached the entrance of the healing quarters, she was welcomed by the familiar smell of herbs and freshly washed linen. She took a moment to look around. This was her own little kingdom which she ruled with lots of dedication, a good deal of pragmatism and – as the healers joked among themselves – with an iron fist. She did not even try to hide the little smile of amusement and ever so slight satisfaction that appeared on her face.

A nurse in a blue dress and white apron greeted her with a respectful nod. Nimiel handed her basket full of herbs over to her and inquired after some of the patients. There had been no new admissions or critical incidents over the night, so she started her daily routine as intended.

The little girl sat upright in her bed in one corner of the children's room, immobile, gazing at the opposite wall, her red hair forming a bright contrast with the white pillowcase. There were no other children in Nimiel's care at the moment, so the girl was all alone in the room. One of the walls was covered with drawings and a big chest right next to the door held an impressive collection of wooden toy animals. There was a shelf full of books and a table with paper, brushes and watercolours. It was altogether a joyful place to recover from an illness but the little girl did not seem to care for any of it.

When Nimiel entered, the child acknowledged the visitor with a blank stare in her general direction. The healer approached her bed and made quite an effort to manage a cheerful smile. "Good morning, my dear," she said and kneeled down by the bedside. While carefully examining the last remaining spider bite on the girl's arm, she told her all sorts of meaningless pleasantries but there was no reaction whatsoever. The child did not even complain when Nimiel applied a burning disinfectant to the wound. "What are we going to do with you, my brave little Tauriel?" she asked herself rather than the child. Until the girl would be able to tell her what her real name was, Nimiel had decided to simply call her Tauriel, daughter of the forest, and all the other healers had started to refer to her by that name as well.

There was a knock at the door and one of the apprentice healers peeked inside shyly. "Excuse me, my lady," he uttered, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have a…, well, sort of an emergency." "What is it?" Nimiel raised her eyebrows. The young man was clearly struggling to maintain a serious expression. "The king's butler. Apparently the prince fell off a tree and suffered a slight laceration to the head but it is poor Galion who seems to be in much greater need of medical assistance." "Just offer him a glass of wine and tell him to calm down," Nimiel laughed, "Although I do understand his distress. That boy clearly has too much spare energy for foolish ideas and I would not wish to trade places with old Galion when he tells his father the news… Very well then, I'm on my way." She handed the bottle of disinfectant to him. "Here, finish this for me, please." She gave the little girl another encouraging yet unanswered smile before she rushed out of the room to face this most urgent medical challenge.

In the waiting room she found the butler lolling in a chair, pale faced and exhausted, though it was still early in the morning. "Galion, my old friend," she greeted him, "I hear your protégé overestimated his abilities again?" The butler shook his head. "I hate the summer holidays. In the name of Eru, that boy is driving me to the edge of my sanity. Only last week he accidentally set fire to the tapestry in the throne room and burnt off the faces of half the Valar on it. I am sure you can picture the king's reaction to a headless Manwe looking down on his map table." Nimiel could not help but laugh. "Poor Galion, I feel for you. Stay here for a while, take a deep breath and let me see what I can do for your little adventurer." The butler sighed and managed an exhausted half-grin.

Nimiel entered the treatment room where another healer was already examining the prince's head. He did not seem to suffer too much, in fact he looked rather satisfied with himself and was admiring an enormous red and golden apple in his hand. "Lady Nimiel, look, I picked this myself, right from the topmost branch!" he exclaimed when he saw her, shaking off the healer's hand who made an annoyed face. "Thank you, Belegor, I will take it from here," Nimiel said and he gladly left the field to her.

As soon as he had closed the door behind himself, Nimiel sat down next to the boy on the treatment table and looked at him with the sternest of expressions. "Legolas, what were you thinking?" she asked him, "You scared your poor friend Galion to death. And can you imagine how worried your father will be?" The boy's face turned to the wall. "Ada has no time to worry about me," he replied. Nimiel suddenly felt a strong urge to hug the little boy. She knew how much king Thranduil cherished his only son but being a single father and running a kingdom in a huge beast-infested forest were indeed two tasks most difficult to combine. The prince had a legion of servants at his disposal but he still craved his father's attention – and who could blame him?

Nimiel knew that in this moment she could do nothing to ease the child's distress but to offer a little distraction, so she gave him a mirror and let him watch closely while she cleaned and bandaged the harmless laceration on his forehead, explaining every detail of the treatment and every substance she used. It worked: As he rejoined Galion in the waiting room with an impressive bandage around his head – a benevolent exaggeration on Nimiel's part, given the harmlessness of his wound – he wore the proud face of a victorious warrior. "I am afraid you will have to stay here for a little while to make sure you have not suffered a concussion," Nimiel decided. The prince's disappointment was plain to see but Galion finally convinced him to be a good boy and obey the healers. The butler took his leave, not at all ready to bear the news to the king.

Nimiel took her patient to the children's room and ordered a nurse to put fresh sheets on one of the spare beds. The little girl gave them an absent look. "Legolas, I would like you to meet Tauriel," the healer explained, "She has been through a very hard time and is still recovering, so be nice to her!" She had a glimpse of hope that maybe the company of another child would help the girl come out of her shell. Legolas threw an interested look over to the other bed but for the moment the only reaction he got was a sceptical frown. That was something at least, Nimiel stated to herself and set off to finally continue her morning routine.

The children spent the next half hour in silence, ignoring each other's presence as best they could. Legolas had introduced himself to his new roommate but her utter lack of reaction had mortally offended him, so he chose to punish her by returning the silent treatment.

He kept it up for a good while but eventually he could not bear the enforced idleness any longer and started to explore the room in spite of the healers' strict orders to stay in bed. He found the chest with the toy animals and spent some time examining them, always under the critical eyes of Tauriel who could not quite manage to hide her interest in her new companion. Soon Legolas found his favourite animal, a tiny wooden elk with impressive antlers. He took it to the little table with the watercolours in the centre of the room and started to paint it purple. Tauriel continued to watch him with increasing disdain.

And suddenly, out of the blue, she said, "Elks aren't purple." He turned around and stared at her in astonishment. She had spoken in the dialect of the Silvan people that he had been learning for less than a year. If he had only paid enough attention during his lessons to give her a proper tit-for-tat response. Instead he just replied with as much condescension as he could manage, "How would you know? I bet you've never seen one." A pair of squinted green eyes turned towards him. "I have seen pictures of them in books." "That's probably the only thing people like you can do with books," Legolas snapped. She gasped and her face reflected her fury but she repressed the urge to shout at him and replied coldly, "At least I know that there are no purple creatures at all in any corner of any forest." "Oh, really?" He rose from his chair and approached her bed, holding the elk in one hand and the paintbrush in the other. "Let me show you a purple forest creature!" With one quick movement he waved the paintbrush and splashed a good deal of purple watercolour into Tauriel's disbelieving face.

Nimiel had not yet finished half of her ward round when she was called to the waiting room again. This time she was expected by a rather unusual visitor. "My lord," she greeted the king with a bow, "Let me assure you that there is no reason to worry, your son has not suffered any substantial injury."

The king's posture relaxed and his expression softened slightly. Under all the layers of his majestic countenance it was not easy to read his thoughts from his face but Nimiel had known her king long enough – and cured him from more than one battle wound during the past four thousand years – as to notice his relief. "I thank you for your care," he replied, "Next time Legolas will know better." They both knew that was a lie. "Do you wish to see him?" Nimiel offered, "I have placed him with the girl who survived the spider attack." There was a short pause before he answered.

Nimiel suddenly regretted bringing up Tauriel and the spider issue. She knew that the king – being very concerned for the well-being of his people and watching the increasing spider problem in his realm with growing alarm – had been utterly shocked at the massacre at the southern border. He felt guilty for not being able to protect his subjects from the evil brewing in the shadows of the forest. So when the guards had brought Tauriel to the houses of healing, he had urged Nimiel to do everything she could to help the child and had often inquired after her progress during the weeks that followed.

So he did now, as they walked along the corridor. "Her wounds are almost healed," Nimiel explained, "but she is still traumatised. From a medical point of view it is unnecessary to keep her in hospital any longer, but as we have not been able to find any relatives of hers, I believe she will have to stay with us a little longer until we know what is to become of her. I would not like to see her leave without making sure that she will be placed in the best possible hands."

The king stopped and looked at her. "Rest assured that I will not let this child suffer any more misfortunes." "My lord, it was not your fault." Nimiel took a step towards him and touched his hand – an unthinkable insolence given her status but in all the long years of their friendship she had learned when to behave inappropriately in order to prevent her king from despairing of his self-imposed sense of duty.

"It is my responsibility to guarantee my people's safety and it was my soldiers who could not protect those families. So it is my fault, whatever effort you might make to comfort me, my dear friend," he said, forcing what was supposed to look like a smile, "So tell me, what do you suggest as to the girl's future whereabouts?"

Nimiel had indeed made up her mind about that question, though she had not spoken of her idea to anyone at the houses of healing so far. "Well…, I believe it may benefit her mental recovery to leave the hospital as soon as possible. And as there seem to be no family members… I would be willing to take her under my own care."

The king seemed sceptical. "With all due respect, my lady, do you not think you may be overreaching yourself? The duties you have to oversee every day are enough for two people as it is. I do not wish the head of my healing quarters to die of exhaustion," he added with a nearly invisible smirk.

Nimiel shook her head. "It would not be an imposition at all. Until she is well enough to attend school I will cut back my hours at the hospital. I am sure the other healers will be perfectly fine with that arrangement – and not altogether unhappy. As for my son, who is not that much older than the girl must be, he was very pleased with my idea. We are already a rather unconventional family since his father… was taken from us."

Nimiel paused. She hardly talked about her late husband and her mentioning him now, in front of the king, who had to bear a no less tragic family history, had been an accident.

He took a moment to answer, but then he simply said, "The matter is settled then. I am glad this issue has been resolved so easily."

They had reached the door of the children's room and stopped. They could hear strange noises coming from the inside which did not quite fit the notion of two sick children recovering. They looked at each other sceptically, then Nimiel opened the door with a determined thrust of her arm.

The sight offered to them made them freeze in the doorframe: Two children drenched in purple watercolour, shouting profanities at each other from either side of the little table in the middle of a mess of pencils, brushes and paper.

"Traumatised, I see…" the king remarked with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow, but Nimiel was too stunned to answer.

In the meantime the children had noticed the adults and stared at them with guilty faces. "Legolas, stop that nonsense at once," the king said to his son in a firm voice. The prince put down his paintbrush and looked to the ground. "I'm sorry, Ada," he mumbled. Nimiel walked up to Tauriel whose cheeks were red with agitation. She looked up at the healer with a guilty frown but Nimiel just laughed and gave her a hug – a completely improper reaction, as she realised a moment later on seeing Legolas' perplexed face.

The king had crouched down in front of his son and started to give him a lecture about appropriate behaviour – his expression was very stern but Nimiel saw a hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. "You will stay here – in bed – until Lady Nimiel releases you. And before you leave, you will clean up this mess you made." Legolas wanted to protest but his father's severe look made him keep his mouth shut.

"So will you, young lady," Nimiel said to Tauriel who had gone back to being silent – this time, however, it was for reasons of both guilt and defiance, as Nimiel could clearly read from her face.

When the adults had left the room, the two children glared at each other from their beds. "Peasant!" Legolas snarled with a frown. "Snob!" Tauriel spit back at him and rolled her eyes.


	3. White Bats

"Now remember, Tauriel," Amril said and bent down to her, "there is nothing to be afraid of. Just go in there, meet your new classmates and enjoy your first day of school. This afternoon I will pick you up again right here." With that he left, throwing another encouraging smile over his shoulder.

Tauriel took a deep breath. It was indeed the very first day of school in her life. In the little border settlement where she had lived before, she had been the only child, so her education had rested more or less arbitrarily in the hands of her parents and other community members. Attending a real school was an entirely new and fairly intimidating experience for her.

But of course, everything in her life had changed. She had lived with Lady Nimiel and her son Amril for almost two months now. Her new family could not be kinder or more caring and there actually were moments when she did not think about the terrible things that had happened.

Amril did his best to keep her occupied by showing her a new wondrous curiosity of the Woodland Palace every day. Tauriel had never seen so many people in one place and such elaborate buildings before. She was used to simple wooden huts, built entirely for purposes of practicality, so the palace with its countless decorated rooms in the huge subterranean and the smaller but still impressive above ground part was like a miracle to Tauriel. Her new foster brother laughed at her amazement but he obviously enjoyed taking the little girl under his wing and helping her explore her new home.

But that was not all he did: He often told her stories or read to her from old books in the palace library. At first she had not understood anything because all his stories were written and told in Sindarin, the language of the people who had come to Greenwood from a faraway land thousands of years ago. Nimiel had been one of them, as Amril told her, but the little girl could impossibly grasp the concept of such an immeasurable time span. Their language, however, had outlasted the years and although both her foster mother and brother spoke the Silvan dialect fluently – it was the general means of communication in the Woodland Realm – Tauriel had soon expressed her wish to learn their language. So they had switched to speaking Sindarin to her most of the time. Nimiel had brought a whole pile of spelling books and children's stories and sat down with Tauriel for two hours every evening to teach her the complicated grammatical structures and the beautiful yet confusing words. Within a few weeks the little girl had acquired a remarkable vocabulary and both Nimiel and Amril could not help but declare that their new family member had an extraordinarily bright mind.

Tauriel hoped it would help her at her new school. She was afraid that the other children, having spent all their lives in a place as wondrous as this, would laugh at her simple education and manners. She summoned up all her courage and entered the classroom.

It was ample and welcoming; there were several small desks and bigger tables, bookshelves and lots of colourful wall charts with pictures of birds, butterflies and other forest animals. Six of the desks were already taken. The children looked at Tauriel curiously. To her relief they did not appear too scary at all. But before she could make contact with them, the teacher walked into the room, a tall woman with chestnut brown hair and a friendly face.

She made Tauriel come to the front and introduce herself to the others. "My name is Tauriel… and I'm forty-two," she said shyly for lack of other ideas. Somehow she had ended up adopting the name Nimiel had given to her in the houses of healing. Everyone referred to her by it and she did not mind. In fact she preferred not to be addressed by the name her parents had given to her because it made her sad when other people used it, knowing that her mother and father would never say it again. And after all, every Elda bore several names, depending on who addressed them.

The teacher, who had introduced herself as Nemireth, assigned her one of the two remaining desks. Tauriel sat down, took out her paper and quill and tried to calm down. The first task of the new school year was to write about one memorable event during the holidays. Tauriel chose her first trip to the palace library with Amril and started scribbling. The other children peeked over to her from time to time and some of them threw her shy smiles. She returned their interested looks and hoped that she would get the chance to talk to them soon.

About ten minutes after the lesson had begun, the classroom door flung open and a blond boy rushed in, out of breath, holding his pile of books and paper in one hand and a half eaten pear in the other. "I'm sorry," he gasped, "I was… detained." Tauriel could hear a few suppressed chuckles. The teacher raised her eyebrows. "I am not going to inquire after the urgent business that kept you from joining us on time," she said and waited until he had sat down at the last empty desk on Tauriel's right. Only then she realised that it was the boy she had met at the houses of healing a few weeks before. The arrogant princeling who had assaulted her with a paintbrush and called her a peasant, just because she had tried to educate him about the colour of elks. The recognition was mutual; Legolas looked over to his new classmate, frowned and rolled his eyes. Then both of them turned towards their work and did not acknowledge each other's existence again for the rest of the lesson.

As the day progressed Tauriel got to know the rest of her classmates. It turned out that most of them were Silvans whose parents worked in or around the palace. She had a hard time remembering all their names at once but they all seemed friendly and easy to talk to.

She learned that the school consisted of no more than two classes. The few children who lived at the palace were divided into two age groups: The younger one was her own class whereas Amril belonged to the older one.

After three lessons of language, arithmetic and history with Nemireth, another teacher, called Halron, led them out of the classroom and to a forest clearing right outside the main gate of the palace. There were several wooden targets attached to the trees and each child was given a small training bow and a quiver full of arrows. "Don't touch them, they're sharp!" Halron warned Tauriel who was curiously examining the shiny arrowheads. She quickly put them back into the quiver and felt a little silly. She obviously was the only one who had never used a bow before.

The exercise was easy enough to understand: One after another, they were supposed to shoot at all of the four targets in a row, trying to hit the black mark in the middle or come as close to it as possible. Tauriel repeated the assignment in her head, trying to figure out how to accomplish it.

"Legolas, show us how it's done!" Halron said and the prince came forward with his bow. He had a smug grin on his face as he shot his four arrows and Tauriel could not help but be impressed – against her will, of course – when he hit three of the black marks and missed the fourth one only by an inch. "Very good, next!" Halron called and so all of Tauriel's other classmates took their turn aiming at the targets. None of them did as well as Legolas, she noticed.

Tauriel herself waited until all the others were done. She was afraid to make a fool out of herself because she had never even touched a bow before but Halron was patient and showed her exactly how to position her feet, how to hold her arms and how to direct her look along the arrow to the target. The other children were very supportive and cheered for her when she released her first arrow. She did not think too much because she was far too distracted by their voices but somehow, to her own surprise, she managed to hit the target right in the middle of the black circle. Halron smiled in approval and the other children applauded – apart from Legolas who looked rather astonished. Tauriel aimed at the second target, bent the bow and shot. She was starting to like it. The second arrow landed as flawlessly as the first one and so did the two that followed. "I'll need to set more difficult targets for you," Halron joked. Tauriel did not know what to answer. She had no idea how she had done it, she only knew that archery was probably going to be a subject she would like very well.

After the last lesson of the day – art, which Tauriel had not enjoyed too much because she could hardly draw a straight line, let alone trees and birds – the children packed their things and hurried out of the classroom. "Tauriel, we're going to play. Are you coming?" a black-haired boy named Berion asked her. She was not sure what to answer because Nimiel expected her to come home after school. Fortunately Amril was already waiting for her outside the classroom as he had promised. He seemed pleased that his little protégé had established new contacts and he encouraged her to go with her classmates. "Off you go, I'll tell mother. You'll find your way home, won't you?" Tauriel nodded and followed the other children.

They decided to play hide and seek, starting from the courtyard. The palace with all its dark corners and corridors was the perfect place for that game. Berion and a honey blond girl whose name Tauriel could not remember were appointed to look for the other six. They covered their eyes and started counting to one hundred.

Tauriel could not decide where to hide because she did not know the palace as well as the others. So she chose the first door she saw and found herself in a long, broad corridor illuminated by torches. It was slightly inclined and led downwards. She followed it and at some point there were no more torches and the corridor started becoming narrower and narrower the further she went. She passed several junctions and open doors and eventually she had to stop as a heavy iron gate blocked her way. She turned around and headed back but suddenly she realised that she could not remember where she had come from. There were three possible ways and she chose the middle one as a random guess. Of course it was not the right one.

Tauriel looked around. She was in a labyrinth with walls of crude rock, the only glimpse of light came from the weak red glow of a nearly gone out torch on the wall. She did not like the dark. Her knees began to buckle and she could feel her heartbeat in her ears. She forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. What was the worst thing that could happen? Probably that she would have to wait down there until a guard came to change the torches. Then there would be a lecture from Nimiel for coming home late. So all in all not the worst possible scenarios. Her heartbeat slowed down a bit.

The next moment her blood froze in her veins. She heard a noise right next to her, it was a shrill shriek that could have woken a petrified troll. From the corner of her eyes she saw something white move quickly in the dark. Tauriel panicked. She started running without any sense of orientation, turned at several junctions and did not stop until she saw a flicker of light at the end of the corridor. She slowed down and rested her hand against the wall. But that was no wall – instead of the expected cold stone she felt warm, soft fabric. Her scream almost trumped the one she had heard some minutes before.

"Ssshhhh!" A hand was put over her mouth. Tauriel instinctively bit it and thrust her fist into the general direction where she assumed the body belonging to it. "Oouch! Manwe's earlobes, what's wrong with you?" Tauriel paused for a moment. That voice sounded familiar.

"Legolas?" she whispered into the dark. "Yes, of course, what did you think?" it came back in a strange articulation, "Damn, you hit me right on the chin!" He snuffled. "Sorry. But what are you doing down here anyway?" "Hiding – remember?" Right, Tauriel did remember. She had completely forgotten about the game. Which led her to a new question: "Where in the palace are we?" He let out an annoyed sigh. "Under the courtyard, between the dungeons and the wine cellar. Now how about you shut up?" "How about I make your nose match your chin?" she replied and a wave of anger boiled up inside her. "I suppose we've won the game by now anyway," the prince conceded graciously, "Come on, let's get out of here."

He started moving in direction of the weak light at the end of the corridor. Tauriel followed him, trying to stay as close as her pride allowed it. After a few turns he stopped abruptly. "Well, damn," he stated. "What is it?" Tauriel forgot to stick with her anger. Legolas' knuckles hit something hard and it gave a metallic clank. "The portcullis is closed," he answered, "It was open when I came in but in the meantime a guard must have closed it. We have to go the other way." "What other way?" Tauriel's voice revealed her reluctance. "The one you came from! Eru, give me patience…" Although she could not see it, the eye-rolling was implied in his tone.

She stepped into his way. "We shouldn't go there! There is something strange… Didn't you hear it?" She noticed something like a suppressed chuckle. "You mean the poor bats you scared to death?" "Bats?" "Yes, white bats. They live down here. They're blind and completely harmless. At night they fly out and hunt insects, at daytime they sleep in these corridors. You must have creeped the hell out of them waking them up in the middle of the afternoon." Tauriel had not felt so silly in all her life. "Fine, let's go."

Legolas led the way and without having to turn back even once they reached the inclined corridor. "I wonder why you could even get in here," the prince reasoned, "Normally there is a locked door halfway to the exit." An uncomfortable feeling rose in Tauriel's stomach.

When they arrived at the mentioned door, her intuition turned out to be right; it was locked. "Maybe someone in the courtyard will hear us if we call for help?" Tauriel suggested. "Don't you dare!" Legolas hissed, "We're not supposed to be down here. If Ada finds out I've been in the labyrinth, he'll ground me for the rest of the Third Age. He thinks it's dangerous because it's easy to get lost or hit your head or something." Tauriel gasped. "Calm down," Legolas tried to reassure her, "Have I led you wrong so far?" She did not answer. Instead she wanted to know, "So, what are we supposed to do now?" "We go back to the portcullis and wait. At five o'clock the guards change at the dungeons. They have to open another portcullis to get in and out and for some reason those things are connected, so if one opens, the others do as well. That's when we can sneak out." "Sounds like a plan," Tauriel stated – not that there was an alternative – and they started their return journey through the dark.

When they reached the portcullis they sat down in a strategic spot that allowed them to see when it opened but to remain unseen themselves. "How is your chin?" Tauriel asked. For one thing she really felt sorry for punching him, for another thing hearing his voice reassured her. She was still not too fond of the dark. "It's swelling up nicely," he grumbled. "You'll have to go to the houses of healing as soon as we get out," Tauriel said but in the next moment she realised, "Oh no, Nimiel is going to kill me…" "Unless my father finds you first," the prince stated dryly.

They stayed silent for several minutes after that. Then Legolas asked, "Where did you learn to shoot like that?" It was obvious that the question had been weighing heavily on his mind. "I didn't," Tauriel replied, "I really don't know why I hit all the marks. It was fun though. And my father was a good archer, maybe that's why..." When she realised what she had just said a wave of feelings choked her. She tried to fight it back, biting her lips. Legolas guessed that she was struggling but he asked anyway, "What happened to your family?" Tauriel gulped. "Spiders" was all she could say. To her surprise she felt a hand reaching for hers and heard the prince say, "I'm sorry." One part of her was grateful for his sympathy but another one did not want his compassion. She pulled her hand back and hissed, "No, you're not. You can't because you have no idea what it feels like." He took a moment to answer. "You're right. After all I wasn't there when my mother died." His words hit Tauriel like a fist and she felt a lump in her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't know… How long…?" "Twenty-one years and seven months," the answer came promptly, "I was thirty-two then." "Do you miss her?" Tauriel was grateful to turn the conversation away from her own parents but still she felt an urge to discuss the topic in some way. Legolas shrugged, she could rather hear than see it. "I've got used to it, I guess. Sometimes I even remember things about her that make me happy, for example, when I smell forest flowers it reminds me of her." Tauriel felt a single tear running down her cheek. For her it was the smell of woodruff. She pushed the thought away because she did not feel able to bear the memory. Instead she focused on Legolas again. "But you still have your Ada. Though I think he's a bit scary." He chuckled, "That's just because he's the king. He's actually great although he doesn't have much time for me. He always tries to be strict but he can't keep it up for very long, only when he worries about me. He has taught me to ride and to shoot and sometimes he reads the old stories of our ancestors to me." Tauriel tried to imagine the king with a storybook in his hands but she could not even picture him without his crown. Another thought crossed Legolas' mind and he added. "It's true, I do get scared of him too, but only when he drinks too much wine. He gets sad sometimes and I don't know how to comfort him then but Galion says it's best to leave him alone when that happens."

Tauriel did not know what to answer. She did not have to anyway because in that moment the portcullis started squeaking. They jumped to their feet, checked the corridor for guards and when they could not see any, they ducked under the portcullis and entered the dungeons as quietly as they could. There were only two prisoners in there, as far as Legolas knew; a man from Esgaroth who had tried to steal from the treasury and a Woodland Elf who had assaulted one of his kinsmen with a knife. Both their cells lay in another corridor. The guard of the previous shift had already left and the new one was busy starting his round. He walked in a slow, steady pace and did not notice Legolas and Tauriel in their hiding place in the shadows. As soon as he had entered the corridor of the prisoners, the two children took their chance and snuck to the exit. The heavy door was unlocked and they could finally leave the labyrinth.

When they stepped into the courtyard, their eyes needed a moment to get used to the light again. Tauriel looked at Legolas and for the first time she could see what she had done to his face. His lower lip was bleeding, his chin was swollen and the whole thing had already started to turn blue. "We are going straight to the houses of healing," she decided, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him with her.

Half an hour later Legolas came out of the treatment room with some weird-smelling paste on his lip and an ice pack pressed against his chin. Tauriel had been waiting for him while Nimiel had dealt with the injury. The healer walked into the waiting room after him and assessed Tauriel with a critical look. 'Here it comes,' the girl thought and prepared herself for a well-deserved lecture and most likely a prohibition to stay out after school ever again. But Nimiel turned to Legolas instead and said with a raised eyebrow, "I'm coming to think that if it weren't for you I would be unemployed. I hope not to see you here again too soon. So be more careful next time and don't walk into a door again." She pronounced the last sentence very slowly and emphatically, looking back and forth between the two children.

As soon as Nimiel was out of earshot Tauriel whispered to Legolas, "A door? Seriously?" He tried to manage a grin but it came out as a painful grimace. "Sure, that's how it happened. Or do you recall anything else?" Tauriel was too perplexed to answer. Legolas did not try to laugh at her bewildered expression but his eyes reflected his amusement. "You know what? You're not half as nasty as you pretend to be, peasant." Tauriel started grinning for both of them. "And you're not half as stupid as you look, snob."


	4. Golden Birds

Legolas was sitting cross-legged on the thick carpet that covered the stone tiles in his room. There were books and tattered old parchment rolls distributed all over the floor and the nicely crafted beechen desk, where Tauriel was sitting with a pile of paper in her hands, legs dangling, chewing on her quill.

"Tell me again how I ended up doing the Peoples of Arda project with you?" she asked with an exhausted sigh. The prince looked up from the heavy book he was holding on his knees. "I don't know… Could be an excuse to come here and eat bird-shaped honey biscuits." He grinned, took one of said pastries from a plate next to him and stuffed it into his mouth before throwing another one over to his friend, pretending the bird made of golden honey dough could actually fly. "Or maybe," he continued through a mouth full of crumbs, "it's because I came up with the best topic."

Tauriel shook her head. "Honestly – orcs? Of all things?" "Why not? The alternative would have been either the horsemasters of Rohan or the halflings of the West. The Rohirrim would be pointless because there will be another presentation about the Lakemen of Esgaroth and, seriously, how much different can they be? As for the halflings, whatever they are… Well, you said yourself that it would be impossible to find information on them."

Tauriel shrugged. "I don't know… I'd still prefer to present a Free People. What about dwarves?" "Caliel and Gilwen are already doing that." "The Istari?" "No way!" The prince waved a biscuit at her to emphasise his decision. "Too complicated! We would have to present all five of them plus their respective accomplishments and they've been around for ages – literally!" Tauriel acknowledged his point with a nod. "True… The Avari then?" "No, Nemireth said no Quendi were allowed. Besides, wouldn't it be a little inappropriate to mention them in the same breath with folks like dwarves and men? After all, most of you Silvan people are related to them." He was starting to get a little annoyed but she still had another suggestion: "Ents?" Legolas rolled his eyes. "Talking trees, how fascinating… Tauriel, stop! Just go with my idea for once! Trust me, we will have the most interesting presentation of all."

She slammed her pile of paper on the desk and let out a deep breath. "Fine, orcs it is. But I've already done some research in the library and found tons of literature that mentions them. However, most books only give information about how many of them were slain in which battle. There's nothing about their actual characteristics, except that they're horrible. That won't be enough for a presentation though."

Legolas frowned and tilted his head. "Well, don't ask me, you're the bookworm." "Wonderful," Tauriel grumbled, "What are we supposed to do then? We don't know anything about orcs, do we?" The prince pondered the question for a while but then his face lightened up. "We don't. But I know who does. Come on!"

* * *

"Seriously, you want to ask your father?" Tauriel stepped into Legolas' way as they were walking along the long, gloomy subterranean corridor that led to the king's study, armed with paper and quill and a book full of disgusting paintings of orcs. She was not entirely comfortable with the idea of disturbing him in the middle of the afternoon, in fact she was not too comfortable around him at all. Somehow she always got the impression that he could read her every thought from her face. Being friends with Legolas, she spent a lot of time in the royal quarters and came across the king on a regular basis. He did not seem to mind her presence and most of the time he treated her with what could best be described as indifferent kindness. But for some reason he still intimidated her.

Legolas gently pushed her out of the way. "Of course, he is the best source we can get. Imagine how many orcs he must have killed." There was nothing to refute that argument. Tauriel sighed and followed her friend.

The door to the study was closed and they could hear voices coming from inside. "He seems to be busy," Tauriel said, "Let's come back later." She turned around but Legolas grabbed her sleeve. "That's just Galion. Come on, if Ada tries to eat you alive, I'll protect you." His grin infuriated and reassured her at the same time.

Legolas raised his hand to knock on the door, but in the middle of the movement he stopped. "Wait. If we tell him that this is going to be a presentation for the whole class, he won't tell us anything interesting. Let's just say we've learned about some fancy historic battle and are looking for extra information." "Whatever." Tauriel thought it best to let Legolas handle the entire matter. So he knocked and after a while the king's slightly annoyed voice commanded them to enter.

The study was a beautifully decorated room with dark furniture and a huge fireplace. The walls were covered with maps and ceiling-high bookshelves. The king was sitting at his desk in front of a pile of paperwork, his face illuminated by the light of an iron candleholder on his right. Galion was standing next to him with several sealed envelopes in his hand.

When the children entered, the king's tense expression softened slightly. "Ah, fire and brimstone," he remarked, implying that the pair of them out and about on mischievous purposes was a common sight around the palace. Both children took a bow – even Legolas had adopted this sign of respect when he spoke to his father in company. "What brings you here?" the king inquired while sealing another envelope and handing it to Galion. "We were wondering if you could help us with our research on a school topic," Legolas said as innocently as he could. The king looked up from his paperwork as an invitation to continue. "We read about the War of Wrath in history class and we're looking for some additional information on orcs," Legolas explained. "Orcs?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Yes, they're quite fascinating," the prince said quickly, "In an awful, abhorrent way, of course." A nearly invisible smirk appeared on the king's face but he did his best to maintain a stern expression. "I see. So you read about the great deeds of your forefathers and what impressed you most were the orcs." He sealed the last letter and with a sarcastic look at Galion he added, "I wish I was more surprised." He gave his butler the envelope and dismissed him with a nod. Galion bowed and left the room, throwing a benevolent smile at the children as he walked towards the door.

Legolas approached the desk and continued, "Anyway, there is hardly any literature about orcs in the library and we thought… maybe you could tell us something. You've seen them, haven't you?"

The king put down the signet he was still holding and leaned back in his chair. "More than I cared for," he answered. Legolas opened the dusty book he had brought and showed his father a page with a copper engraving of a battle scene. "So, what do they look like? Is this picture accurate?" Thranduil threw a look at the page. "Fairly," he replied, "although there are many different types of orcs. The ones that dwell under the mountains of Hithaeglir, for example, are shorter and even more beastlike than others. That is why we call them goblins." "Goblins – write that down," Legolas whispered to Tauriel who was in charge of taking notes, but she had already started scribbling. The king did not hold back his grin this time.

He got up from his chair, walked to the fireplace and stirred the embers with an iron fire-poker. Then he turned back to the children and asked, "First of all – are you aware of how the orcs came into existence?" He leaned on his desk and looked back and forth between them. Legolas' face reflected the hard work his brain was doing. He knew he had read about this but he could not remember. Tauriel, who had been polite enough to give her friend a chance to think, now summoned up her courage and said, "Morgoth abducted some of the first Quendi from the forest of Cuiviénen and tortured them until all the good that Eru had sown in them turned into evil." "Wiseacre!" Legolas whispered into her ear but Thranduil had keen hearing and threw a disapproving glance at his offspring. "Indeed, Tauriel," he said to the girl who could not decide whether to be proud or embarrassed. "Morgoth could not create life himself, so he mutilated Ilúvatar's creatures in mockery of him. Everything the Quendi love, the orcs hate, but most of all they hate themselves," Thranduil lectured, gazing into the air as if he was reading from the pages of a history book in his mind.

Tauriel's quill raced over the paper, then it suddenly stopped. "It's a sad story, isn't it?" she reasoned, "They must be suffering if all they can do is hate." Both the king and the prince turned to her in astonishment. Legolas protested, "You can't pity them, Tauriel, they're orcs!" He looked at his father for support but Thranduil seemed to ponder the appropriate answer. He finally said, "You are right, it is indeed a sad story. But if you had ever seen an orc decapitate one of your comrades and drink the blood from his neck, you would probably feel differently." There was no bitterness in his voice, his tone was perfectly neutral.

The children's expressions reflected their shock. Thranduil did not regret his phrasing – like his own father, he had always believed in a rather straightforward style of parenting, especially when there was an opportunity to shape his heir's attitude towards the enemy. Legolas was the first to overcome the impression his father's words had left. "So, they're cannibals?" he asked. "Most certainly they are," the king confirmed with a nod, "I have even seen them eat their own kind." Tauriel was still petrified but Legolas nudged her with his elbow to remind her of her task. She blinked a few times and started writing again.

A new question came to Legolas' mind. "If they descend from the same people we do – does that mean that orcs possess the gift of the Valar?" Thranduil took a while to answer, he clearly did not know what to say and felt uncomfortable about it. He cleared his throat. "Well, they obviously do not go to the Halls of Mandos to wait for their reincarnation after they die. But what happens to them unless they are eventually killed in battle or by their own kin, I do not know. I believe that the first orcs might have been immortal but the ones that came into life afterwards may very well die of natural causes at some point. However, what I know for certain is that they are fairly hard to kill."

Now the children, especially Legolas, were keen to learn more about that topic. "How do you do that? Are there any special methods?" Legolas inquired. The king took a moment to decide whether this was an appropriate topic for children but he eventually resolved that it could only benefit the inhabitants of the Woodland Realm to learn important life lessons such as this one at an early age. "The safest way would always be to behead them," he explained without any emotion whatsoever, "If you cannot do that, for whatever reason, try to knock them off their feet, preferably by slicing through their legs…"

Tauriel wrote everything down and when the king was done with his detailed statements on the most efficient ways of butchering orcs, she proudly acknowledged that her piece of paper contained a collection of horror stories without equal.

* * *

"Amril, what do you know about orcs?" Tauriel sat next to her foster brother at the kitchen table with Legolas beside her. This time he was in charge of the writing. Amril looked up from his book. He had recently started his medical training at the houses of healing and used every spare minute to study.

"Not much," he answered and scratched his head, "Only that they like to poison their weapons and that the wounds they cause can be difficult to treat. They may be stupid as trolls but they're cunning when it comes to inventing nasty poisons." He threw a confused look at the scribbling Legolas but Tauriel encouraged him to continue. "Belegor told me that once he had to amputate a soldier's forearm because of a cut with an orc blade. He said it was so contaminated that the blood had clotted inside the vessels and the skin around the wound was almost black. I also think I've read somewhere that their teeth are toxic. If they bite you and you don't get the right treatment, your flesh basically rots off."

Nimiel, who had been listening silently while peeling an apple until then, put her knife on the table and shook her head in disapproval. "Amril, stop that! They are children, for Eru's sake!" Tauriel protested, "I'm almost sixty!" and was joined by Legolas who contributed, "And I'm already seventy-one! Besides, this is a school research project." Nimiel shrugged. "Very well then, although I do not recall learning things like this during my school time in Doriath." The three younger elves refrained from any comments on Nimiel's age and the resulting differences in childhood education.

Nimiel listened to Amril's account on orc teeth for another good while, her frown becoming deeper with every word he said, until she finally weighed in a second time, "Excuse me, ion nin, but I cannot bear this! If you are going to tell them horror stories, at least make sure they are medically correct!" Amril's face turned red and he preferred to bury it in his book again. Nimiel had not meant to embarrass him but whenever someone spread wrong information about her field of expertise, she could not resist the urge to set the facts straight.

"So, listen: Orc teeth are not toxic as such. They are simply infested by so many germs that their bites can cause infections which are indeed complicated to treat, as Amril has told you. Unless the wound is disinfected immediately and the patient is given an immune-activating cure every twelve hours for at least one week, orc bites can lead to a terrible fever and all sorts of unpleasant reactions." She paused a moment to give Legolas a chance to keep up with his notes – being in charge of most of the teaching at the houses of healing, she was obviously used to that situation. "I had a patient once," she continued, "whose entire face swelled up and turned pale and cold like a dead body due to an orc bite." Now even Amril came back from his dive in the book. "What did you do with him?" he wanted to know. "Well, I used half the athelas in the forest on him until the infection was gone. But the most disgusting thing I have ever seen regarding orc wounds was that one soldier back in the Second Age who came in with half his leg cut off and the morgul axe still in it…"

Tauriel and Legolas leaned back and looked at each other in deep satisfaction. The two healers were even easier sources of information than the king had been. The children just sat there and listened, eventually taking turns with the note-keeping. Now they were finally confident that their contribution to the Peoples of Arda project would indeed be unique.

* * *

Nimiel made her way along the forest path that led to the clearing with her little herb plantation. She could see riders approach and took a step aside to let them pass. It was a unit of the border guard, led by the captain himself, and next to him she noticed the king on his unmistakable sand coloured horse. She bowed as he rode past her, but when he recognised her he gave the captain a sign to continue, stopped his horse and dismounted.

"Lady Nimiel," he greeted her, "may I inquire after the business that leads you to the forest all by yourself?" "I am going to pick some herbs." "Then allow me to accompany you to the clearing. It is not wise to walk alone, not even a distance as short as this." He turned his horse around and they started their way.

"How is your shoulder?" Nimiel remembered to inquire. The king bowed his head and replied, "Much better, thanks to your excellent care. Not even a week has passed since the orc attack and it is almost as good as new." Nimiel smiled at the compliment on her skills and shushed herself for thinking that she deserved every bit of it.

But the king's mentioning of the orc attack reminded her of another subject: "My lord, the question may be silly but… Did you happen to receive a letter from Legolas' teacher?" The king looked surprised. "Not that I recall, but Galion may have dealt with it without telling me. Why are you asking?" "Well…" Nimiel was looking for the best way to phrase the issue, "I received one two days ago concerning Legolas and Tauriel's questionable contribution to a project. Apparently they must have given a completely improper presentation about the race of orcs." Thranduil stopped and tilted his head. "A presentation?" he asked, "In front of their class? And the teacher?" Nimiel nodded. "Indeed. I have to admit that I am not entirely blameless of this matter. Without knowing that it would turn into a presentation, I told them a few stories about the healing of wounds caused by orcs that may have been somewhat… explicit." "You did?" To Nimiel's surprise the king started chuckling. "My lady, I am relieved to hear it. I was beginning to think that it was my, uhm, graphic account on slaying orcs in battle alone that irritated the poor teacher."

Nimiel looked at him in astonishment. "So, we're both culprits," she stated and Thranduil confirmed, "Guilty as charged." There was a substantial silence before Nimiel concluded with a troubled expression, "That probably withdraws both of us from the competition for the parents of the century award…"

The watchman standing on his post at the next road junction could do nothing but frown and shake his head at the unusual and fairly inappropriate sight of the king and the head of the healing quarters walking by and laughing their heads off.


	5. Green Fireflies

_First of all, thank you guys so much for your wonderful, supportive comments! You're really motivating me to stick with this story._

_As much as I love cute little elflings, it's time to move on and take a shot at elven puberty now. I hope you like it._

* * *

"Come on, Ada, it's my birthday after all!" Legolas leaned on his father's desk and showed him the most endearing and innocent face he could manage – an art he had perfected over the years, as he was well aware. "If I have to spend the whole evening at that formal reception, please let me at least bring one guest of my own."

The king looked up from his paperwork, put down the quill and breathed deeply. They had been through this before. "Legolas, you are turning one hundred years old and it is high time you start to behave like an adult. Formal receptions, as tiresome as they might appear to you, are something you may as well get used to. It is an honour for you to receive the congratulations of so many highly renowned people." "I know," Legolas groaned, "and I feel very honoured and flattered and grateful and everything." The king raised an eyebrow. "But I have never even talked to most of them," the prince continued, "What harm can possibly come from having one other person my age there?"

Thranduil looked at his son with a sarcastic expression that loosely translated to 'Where would you like me to begin?' Legolas grasped his father's meaning and returned to plan A. "I promise, we will be at our best behaviour. You won't even recognise us. As docile as two petrified trolls." He smiled from one ear to the other.

The king massaged his temples and sighed. "Very well then, invite her. But if I see the two of you concocting any mischief whatsoever…" "Don't worry, Ada! Thank you!" He was already halfway to the door.

* * *

And so it happened that Tauriel stood alone in a corner of the Hall of Crystal, feeling more awkward than she ever had before. She twisted the smooth fabric of her dress between her fingers and did not know what to do with herself. Looking around, she saw dozens of elegant, dignified people who were engaged in the bizarre choreography of social protocol. They seemed perfectly at ease but for Tauriel it was like an expedition to a strange new world.

She had not spoken to Legolas so far as he was busy greeting the guests and making small talk. She caught glimpses of him occasionally and could not help but wonder how naturally and gracefully her friend manoeuvred through this situation. Tauriel often forgot that the world he came from was completely different from hers. He looked very grown-up and unsettlingly royal that evening, blending in perfectly with the crowd, whereas she, the little Silvan wearing one of her foster mother's dresses and chewing nervously on her lip, felt like a bat in the middle of a swarm of butterflies.

A servant came by with a tray full of glasses and offered her one. She took it and thanked him with a shy smile, which seemed to confuse him as he walked on. Now at least she had something to hold on to and could pretend to be busy whenever someone looked her way.

As the evening progressed, Tauriel eventually found a spot where she could quietly observe the spectacle in the hall without being in anyone's way. As she was about to contemplate a huge painting on the wall next to her, she suddenly felt an uncomfortable tickle on her shoulder. She turned her head and could only just stop herself from squeaking at the sight of the tiny black spider that was crawling along her collar. She quickly wiped it away and turned around, glaring into Legolas' face.

"Why would you do that, for Eru's sake? You know I hate spiders." "Exactly, and your face was priceless," the prince replied. Then he frowned, assessing her from head to toe with a sceptical look. "Wait a moment – who are you and what have you done to Tauriel?" "What are you talking about?" He tried to look serious. "Forgive me my astonishment but you actually look like… a girl!" Tauriel rolled her eyes and whispered, "If I could move properly in this dress I would punch you right now." "I know, that's why I'm savouring the moment," he chuckled.

Tauriel reached into her pocket between the abundant pleats and layers of her skirt and produced a little wooden box. "Before I forget – happy hundredth, snob!" Legolas took the box and opened it. It contained a tiny wooden figure, half covered with washed out purple watercolour. It took him a moment to recognise it but then he could hardly believe what he saw. "Are you serious? I had no idea this still existed. Thank you, this is probably the most personal gift I've ever got." He gave her a spontaneous hug that caught her by surprise. He did not seem to care about the bewildered looks of some people around them. Tauriel smiled a little awkwardly and explained, "It was still at the houses of healing. I found it when I was volunteering there during the summer holidays and I asked Nimiel if I could give it to you. So you won't forget me when you go to Imladris next month."

Legolas tilted his head and frowned. "As if I would forget you. And please don't remind me of Imladris. I'm afraid Lord Elrond will make me read history books and ancient poetry in Quenya all day until I talk as stiltedly as him. And Arwen is so patronising – she treats me like a fifty year old elfling. I'm really coming to appreciate Ada's approach to parenting: Most of the time he has no clue where I am or what I'm doing."

His eyes searched the crowd for his father. When he could not find him anywhere his expression turned mischievous. "Speaking of which… As I see it, this is as exciting as this party is going to get. How about we make a discreet disappearance?" Tauriel shook her head decisively. "No way! If your father finds out..." "He's had five glasses of Dorwinion already, he won't even notice. Besides, I've done my duty: I've said at least one meaningless courtesy to everyone and by now most of them are only interested in the buffet anyway."

Legolas looked at her with that infuriatingly charming half grin he used whenever he wanted to convince her to do something forbidden. She hated herself for it but nine times out of ten it worked on her. "Come on, since when are you such a bore?" he teased her. But Tauriel still hesitated, so the prince decided to play dirty. He said the one phrase that always won her over because it touched her weakest spot – her pride. "I dare you!"

* * *

"Where are we going?" Tauriel whispered as she followed Legolas through the coppice, trying not to tear Nimiel's dress. They had left the palace unseen – over the years they had developed various strategies to avoid the guards – and entered the forest. "I want to show you something," he simply said and walked on. Tauriel sighed, cursing herself for giving in to yet another one of her friend's childish plans. Finishing school and starting "prince boot camp", as he called it, had obviously not made him any more mature so far.

Tauriel was not at all comfortable with the idea of venturing so far away from the palace without anyone knowing where they were. She preferred to stay within the safe radius that was protected by the palace guard. There were patrol units in the more remote parts of the forest as well, but Tauriel had experienced once before that it was not wise to rely on their help.

At least Legolas had brought his bow and daggers, just in case, but mostly because it was an actual law of the Woodland Realm never to enter the forest unarmed. He had gained some experience in fighting during the last years and apparently he had already acquired renown for his proficiency. Tauriel knew he was an excellent archer – in fact, he had been her only competition regarding the highest hit rate in archery class at school. Yes, she was good at shooting too, but she had never actually aimed at anything else than wooden targets. The possibility that there could be far more animate and dangerous creatures in close proximity gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach.

After about half an hour of working their way through bushes and trees they reached a cliff overseeing the Forest River. It was one of the few places in Greenwood where no trees blocked the sky. The clearing was bathed in pale moonlight and some stars peeked through the thin layer of clouds. "What now?" Tauriel asked and picked some dry leafs off her dress. Legolas sat down, put his bow and quiver aside and said, "Now we wait." "What for?" Tauriel wanted to know but he did not tell her. So she sat down beside him and they spent the next ten minutes in silence, contemplating the night sky and listening to the steady sound of the river.

Suddenly a flicker of green light appeared a few feet above the water, followed by a second and a third one until a whole swarm of tiny glowing dots illuminated the river valley. Tauriel had never seen so many fireflies in one place and she could not take her eyes off the mesmerising spectacle. The fireflies whirled around in a frantic dance, like a savage mirror image of the steady silver starlight in the sky. Tauriel was completely absorbed in her contemplation and her worry about the dangers of the forest was forgotten. Legolas looked at her with a grin. "I told you it was worth the long walk."

Then, from one moment to another, the lights vanished. At first Tauriel did not realise what had made them disappear but when she turned her eyes to Legolas she suddenly saw it: He was staring over his shoulder in alarm, reaching for his daggers. A giant black spider came crawling towards them from the shadows of the trees, pale eyes fixed on them, fangs clicking greedily.

Tauriel's senses abruptly stopped working. She had not faced the horror of her childhood since the day it had killed her family. A wave of long suppressed memories flooded her brain. Darkness. Pain. Screams. She could not move one muscle in her body.

The creature approached them. From the corner of her eye Tauriel saw Legolas jump to his feet, draw his knives and attack it. He stung one blade into the spider's throat but obviously he had not hit the right spot because the beast shrieked in pain and fury, reared up and struck him with a stiff-bristled leg. He fell over and a moment later the creature was above him, trying to paralyse him with a bite of its poisonous fangs. He thrust his dagger upwards between the spider's jaws so the fangs could not close, but there was no way for him to escape.

"Tauriel, help me!" he shouted, "Take the damn bow and shoot it!" His voice sounded like an echo from far away but somehow it managed to break her trance. Her hands were trembling and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears when she took up Legolas' bow, drew an arrow and aimed at the spider.

Suddenly the world around her seemed to slow down. The sound of the river, the moonlight, her friend's voice – everything faded away. A strange coldness spread in her mind and covered up the panic. She was perfectly focussed and calm. There was only her, the bow and the target.

She released the arrow into a flawless trajectory and it pierced one of the spider's eyes. The beast gave a final shriek and collapsed, barely giving Legolas a chance to duck away before its massive body hit the ground.

He got up, caught his breath and pulled his dagger out of the dead creature's jaw. "You took your time," he stated and a smile of relief spread over his face, "Good shot, by the way." Tauriel was just realising what had happened. She looked at the cadaver, then at the bow in her hand, and the cold calmness gave way to an adrenalin rush that made her blood boil in her veins.

That was when the other five spiders burst out of the shadows.

* * *

"Meldis nin, I think you should consider a career with the guard." Legolas plucked the last arrow out of a spider's throat. His daggers were dripping with thick dark blood and there were red splashes all over his elegant grey tunic. Tauriel did not look much better. For lack of alternatives she had used an arrow to stab one of the beasts that had come too close to be shot. Now Nimiel's beautiful dress was drenched in spider blood and Tauriel had lost all hope of concealing their forbidden trip to the forest.

She gave Legolas a disbelieving look. "The guard? Of course, as if I would like to spend eternity creeping through the forest and slaughtering disgusting things." She rolled her eyes at Legolas who was just shaking the blood off his blades with two quick swings.

Tauriel gave him back his bow and quiver, then she turned away. She did not want to face him because he had an impeccable talent for guessing her thoughts. In that moment she was scared and repulsed at the same time. Only it was not because of the blood on her dress or the stinking carcasses on the ground – it was because of herself. She had taken the lives of those creatures. However abhorrent they were, whatever they had done to deserve her hate – did she have the right to end another being's life? Tauriel felt as if something pure and innocent had broken in her soul.

But the guilt was not the worst part. What scared her even more was the fact that the fighting and killing had not felt as horrible as it should have. A small part of her had not been entirely averse to the coldness in her mind and the heat in her blood when her arrows had pierced the flesh of the beasts. The truth was that it had felt strangely natural, like something her senses and her body had been waiting to do for a long time without her mind knowing. It was a disgusting thought and she did her best to push it away.

"Let's go home. And next time you want to 'show me something' remind me to run for it!"


	6. Chestnut Horses

_Sorry this took a while! The thing called "real life" tends to take up a lot of my time :)_

_In this chapter there aren't too many new plot developments but I felt I needed to include it as a bridge to what is going to happen next._

* * *

Mellon nin,

I hope you are fine over there in Imladris and Lord Elrond still hasn't managed to turn you into a proper, respectable prince.

If the messenger is not detained or eaten by trolls, it must be around mid-July when you receive this letter. I cannot believe you have already been there for almost a year! I remember last summer and somehow I still feel bad about hardly being able to talk to you during your last weeks at home because of all the hours Nimiel made me do at the healing quarters' laundry after our "adventure" in the forest. I see her point in punishing me and I know it must have scared the living daylights out of her when I came home all drenched in blood, but I still regret the time I had to spend scrubbing disgusting things off white bed sheets, knowing that you would soon be gone for such a long time.

It's a shame the messenger only rides to Imladris every three months. If it wasn't far too much to ask, I would want you to tell me absolutely everything you have seen and learned since the last time you wrote to me. It must be amazing to explore places so far away from home and I'm so jealous it's not even funny anymore.

Thank you for the beautiful drawings (although I don't believe for a moment that you did them all yourself). If this is really what Imladris looks like, I finally understand why most travellers from there turn up their noses at the Woodland Palace. I bet they don't have gloomy subterranean chambers with crude rock walls and bridges carved from petrified tree roots. In the pictures everything seems so refined and sophisticated. But as much as I would love to see Imladris one day, I have to say it all looks a little overdone and impractical to me.

Here in the palace everything is basically the same. Your father is still as grumpy as he always was. I don't see much of him, let alone speak to him, but judging by the worn out face Galion carries around, he hasn't become any more cheerful in your absence. There is also a rumour that last week he got so annoyed with the chief of guards, he actually threw a glass of wine in his face. No wonder that poor fellow looks so grim all the time. With the weird creatures creeping around the forest and a king with a bad temper, his must be the most ungrateful position at the whole court. Anyway, if you ask me, your father misses you a lot and simply needed an opportunity to let out all the energy he usually spends on keeping you in line.

Speaking of family – guess what: Amril got engaged! He finally summoned up the courage to propose to Eilianneth and now we're waiting for them to set a wedding date for next spring. It's a pity you won't be back by then. Nimiel pretends to be all happy and excited but both Amril and I can see that she's getting a little melancholic about him leaving home and starting his own life.

I honestly hope she will get over it and not try to compensate by focusing her whole maternal instinct on me. Nimiel is wonderful and you know how much I love her but she really needs to give me some room to breathe from time to time. Now that I'm about to finish school, I seriously need to come up with an idea of what to do afterwards – but I don't have to tell you that, you've heard me complain about it often enough, haven't you? Anyway, Nimiel is starting to worry about it more than I do.

Of course the houses of healing are an option. The work there is demanding and interesting and I would have Nimiel and Amril to help me, but somehow I can't picture myself as a healer – can you? I'm afraid that instead of being gentle and patient all the time, I would just tell everyone to pull themselves together and stop whining. (I know you're laughing right now, don't even try to deny it!)

There is another idea that I can't get out of my head. It was you who put it there, by the way, thanks a lot! Would it be completely absurd, stupid and ridiculous if I applied for the guard? (Of course it would and I can picture you laughing even more now.) I talked to one of Amril's former schoolmates who is with the guard now and what she told me did not sound half as scary as I expected. She says she spends a lot of time standing sentry around the palace or patrolling the main forest paths. Sometimes she also accompanies travelling parties outside the Realm. She has been to Erebor, imagine that! Of course she comes across spiders and orcs every now and then, but I honestly prefer getting beaten up once in a while to spending my whole life in one place and doing the exact same work with the exact same people every day. So I think I'm going to take the entrance test; they can't do more than reject me, can they? It takes place at the end of July, so the next time you hear from me I'll probably tell you about my glorious failure. I haven't even talked to Nimiel about it yet because she would drop dead at the mere thought of me doing anything dangerous. Mellon nin, I really wish you were here to make fun of my lunatic plans…

I'm just noticing that this letter is turning into a novel, like the ones before, so I should stop rambling and start completing the orders of all the people who want me to give you their regards. (Seriously, can't they just write their own letters?)

First of all, Nimiel wishes you all the best and hopes that everyone is treating you well – so basically the same she always says. Imagine a hug and some homemade biscuits along with it and you'll get the picture.

Amril just says hello this time because he is doing lots of overtime, plus, now that they're engaged, Eilianneth makes him visit all of her three hundred and seventy-eight point five relatives.

The next one in line is Berion. He would like to know if it's true that the sword of Elendil is lying around somewhere in Imladris and he wants you to touch the blade for him to see if it's really still sharp. (Don't ask me! You know he has always been a little out of it and he has become even weirder since he started working at his father's smithy. I think it's the hot fumes.)

Last but not least I have greetings from Nemireth. She still inquires after you regularly and always refers to you as "the prince" or even "his highness". Technically that's correct, I know, but then I remember how she used to tell us off as little elflings and it sounds really odd to me.

So, mellon nin, I hope you have a wonderful summer. I'm sending you a big hug and I'm looking forward to reading your horrible handwriting again soon.

Lots of love,

Tauriel

PS: In case you're wondering about the cherry stone in the envelope – it's from that one tree near the river bend where we used to steal cherries every year. I figured that a whole cherry wouldn't survive the long journey but I wanted to keep up the tradition.

* * *

Meldis nin,

It is my fondest hope that thou beest in excellent health as well as of high spirits…

No, this isn't going to work at all, so I'll better turn off the Elrond mode. But I have to say that I'm getting fairly good at it, don't you think?

Thank you for the cherry stone; it was a sweet gesture as I really missed stealing cherries with you this summer. At first I didn't realise it was actually meant to be in the envelope and I dropped it in the grass. I'm sure you can picture me cursing and looking for it as soon as I understood what it was. The best part was when Arwen came out and saw me. Anyway, now the young lady of Imladris knows who you are and that both of us are convicted cherry thieves.

Before I tell you any news of mine, I want you to know that I absolutely support your idea of applying for the guard. Why should it be ridiculous? I was serious when I said it that night in the forest and I still think it would be perfect for you. So, did you take the entrance test? If the answer is yes, I don't really need to ask about the outcome, do I? What are they looking for if it's not someone who can shoot flying arrows out of the air and kill spiders in a ball gown? I regret not being home because we could have done some training together before the test, but I guess it wasn't necessary anyway.

Please pass my congratulations to Amril and Eilianneth. It sure took them a while, didn't it? I'm afraid I won't be back for their wedding although I really would have liked to be there.

For me things haven't changed much during the last few weeks. Well, except that it got really hot down here in the valley and I caught the sunburn of my life. Half the skin on my face is peeling off and I look like an orc with chicken pox, but I guess that's no wonder after a hundred years in a shady forest.

I still do a lot of reading in the library. It is amazing; you would fall in love with it at first sight and never come out again, so I can't decide whether I want you to see it or not. Lindir, who is basically Lord Elrond's Galion, though a lot more uptight than our old friend at home, watches my every movement when I'm there. I once tried to tell him a joke but he was so utterly irritated that I gave up hope before even getting to the punchline. He's a decent fellow but a little exhausting at times. Lady Celebrian jokes that he is the secret ruler of Imladris and that he knows about absolutely everything that happens around here.

I've already told you about Lord Elrond himself and I'm glad he's still as patient with me as he was when I first arrived. He's very demanding but I'm grateful for that as well because if he didn't make me read so much, I would probably never have discovered how fascinating the history of our people is. I'm finally getting the hang of ancient Quenya too, though I don't really see the point in learning it.

What is far more useful to me right now is the basic bits of Common Tongue we learned at school. It helps me communicate with the people from all over Arda who come to Imladris. I've told you about the four men from Gondor and the strange fellow in the grey cloak before. He actually turned out to be an Istar named Mithrandir who knows my father and visits the brown-cloaked weirdo in our forest sometimes. Now I've also seen several men from the West and their culture seems to be very different from what we know about the Lakemen of Esgaroth. Do you remember that school project on the peoples of Arda that we did about thirty years ago? Looking back at it now, it was simply ridiculous because you can't possibly learn things like that from books. (We did it right then, didn't we, asking our two self-taught experts? I won't say I told you…)

Speaking of which: I almost forgot to tell you about the scariest but also the most exciting event of last month. Elladan and Elrohir took me on a hunting trip and on our way back to the valley we were attacked by a pack of twelve orcs. Not too dramatic so far – I still maintain my point that spiders are worse, but of course no one here will believe me – until my bow broke. Yes, you read correctly, my damn bloody Imladris-made hunting bow just broke right in the middle of the fight. It wasn't funny at all and for a moment I really thought my number was up. But thanks to Elladan, Elrohir and my loyal Greenwood-forged blades I'm still here. So, my friend and hopefully future member of the guard, if you value your life, never economise on the quality of your weapons. There is one good thing about that story though: At least now Lord Glorfindel (the one who slew the Balrog and came back from the halls of Mandos – I still can't get over that, it's downright creepy) has stopped making fun of my daggers.

I'm afraid I have to finish writing now because I promised Arwen to help her train her new horse. It's a gorgeous chestnut mare, though a little too fiery for our delicate Imladris princess. I cannot possibly tell you how much I don't want to do it. She won't listen to my advice anyway and, honestly, what does she have two brothers for? But I guess I should be grateful for everything Lord Elrond's family is doing for me, so I'll have to grin and bear it.

Please pass my greetings to Nimiel and Nemireth. As for Berion: You can tell him yes, the shards of Narsil are still here and no, I didn't touch them because it would be disrespectful (and because it would bleed like hell, but it will be enough if you only tell him the respect thing).

My dear friend, it always makes me happy to hear from you and I wish I could support you by more than just writing to you. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything will turn out fine for you – but you know that, don't you?

The hug you sent me was very much appreciated and I'm reciprocating the favour by sending you two in return.

Take care!

Legolas


	7. Silver Oliphaunts

_Thank you again for all the encouraging reviews. By the way, I haven't forgotten about any of your suggestions, I'm just saving them for the right moment. So if you happen to have the ultimate idea of how to improve this story, don't hesitate to share it._

_As for this chapter: Please don't hate me for it - and if you do, remember that that those people are elves and they literally have all the time in the world :)_

* * *

The air was thick and humid and the shadows beneath the twisted trunks of the ancient oaks and beeches were whispering sad stories and luring promises of death. The prince shook off the dangerous weariness that befell him whenever his mind stopped being vigilant for a moment. He wondered at how much the whispers of the forest were affecting him; he did not remember their influence on him being so strong. But after all he had not set foot on the bewitching paths of Greenwood for four long years.

His horse pranced nervously; it clearly felt the same way as its rider about the strange place it had been led to. "Easy, mellon," Legolas mumbled and padded the horse's dark brown neck. The two of them had been through a long journey together.

After leaving Imladris, the prince had decided not to return home immediately but to take the opportunity to see a little more of the world. First he had accompanied Lady Celebrian and her travelling party on their way to Lothlórien where she was going to spend some time with her parents. After staying there for a while, instead of turning north in direction of his homeland, he had joined a group of Galadhrim messengers on their southward journey to the realms of men.

He had drunk in the sight of every single wondrous place he had laid eyes on but at some point his heart had told him that it was time to return home. So, with another short delay in Lothlórien, he had made his way back to the Woodland Realm.

The two soldiers Lord Celeborn had appointed to accompany him had taken their leave at the edge of the forest. Legolas had dismissed them there because it had been obvious that neither of them was too eager to enter the dark paths. The prince knew the dangers of his homeland and he was confident that the treacherous forest would not harm him. He had already come across a unit of the border guard about an hour ago, so he felt quite safe despite the numbing atmosphere. It was noon but the sun hardly got through the thick layers of leaves.

Legolas stopped his horse and dismounted. He felt the need to walk a few steps in order to stay awake. The horse followed him obediently without him having to hold the reins.

Suddenly he perceived a quick movement right in front of his face. Before his mind even realised it was an arrow, his hand automatically reached for his own bow. The horse baulked and took a few hectic sideway steps away from the tree trunk where the arrow had landed. Legolas tried to detect the source of the attack but he could not see anything in the shadows under the trees.

"Look who's back!" A familiar voice coming from above made him wince, but a moment later his muscles relaxed, he let his bow sink and a smile spread over his face. "I should have known it," he said, watching Tauriel emerge from between the leaves of a giant oak, swiftly climb down the branches and come to a stand in front of him.

She looked different from what he remembered: Her hair was pulled back by some simple but elegant braids. Her face had lost much of its former soft innocence and her features were more defined now, showing a trait of determination he did not recognise. The dark green uniform of the forest guard made her look taller and the bow and daggers she carried emphasised the new air of fierceness that was about her.

"What?" she asked with a grin and an arched eyebrow. Legolas had not realised he had been staring at her. He quickly shook off his astonishment and answered, "You have changed. I said goodbye to a girl and I'm welcomed back by a warrior. Although I have to admit the green becomes you." Her smile became bigger and she replied, "What am I supposed to say then? You look different, too. I almost feel like calling you 'your highness'." He could see the familiar hint of mischief in her eyes and it melted away the slight awkwardness of the situation. "Don't you dare! Do I need to worry about getting punched if I try to hug you?" "Take your chances," she laughed, flung her arms around his neck and gave him a solid squeeze with her leather vambraces. The warm scent of wood and forest flowers clinging to her made him feel at home.

"I can't believe I've been gone for four years." Only in that very moment Legolas fully realised how long it had been and how long it actually felt, now that he was back. He shook his head in disbelief. "Meldis nin, I think I'm going to miss travelling a lot, but seeing you again, with all these bits of tree bark in your hair and the mud stains on your face, I feel like nothing has changed." "Not much, really," Tauriel gave back with a grin, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the mud off her cheek while she pulled her arrow out of the tree trunk.

"Some time has passed since the last time we heard from each other. So tell me, are you already a regular member of the guard?" Legolas wanted to know as they started walking. She shook her head. "Not yet. I'm a recruit on probation, which means that I'm part of a unit and have the same duties as my comrades, but with a lot of supervision by the corporal, and one week per month is still entirely dedicated to training. I have to go through every field of guard duties before I'm sworn into office, and forest patrol is my last one. So hopefully by the end of the year I'll officially be a soldier." She did not try to hide how proud she was and Legolas felt genuinely happy for her.

She asked him about the last stations of his journey and so he started talking about Rohan and Gondor, about the places he had seen and the people he had met, and Tauriel could not help but ask a thousand questions which he tried to answer as best he could. It really felt like in the old days when the two of them had roamed the forest together, talking about all and sundry.

After following the path for a good while, they suddenly heard voices in the coppice next to them. "Tauriel?" A call came from between the trees. Tauriel's face instantly froze. "Damn, I completely forgot that I was supposed to report to the corporal by now. I haven't been with the unit for long, so he doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me. So much for my intention to prove him wrong…" She took a deep breath, straightened up and turned towards the approaching voices.

Three guards emerged from the coppice. One of them – Legolas recognised him as the corporal by his uniform – looked very alarmed. "Tauriel, what are you…" He stopped at the sight of the prince. "Your highness," he said with a bow, slightly irritated, but he immediately regained control of his expression, "Beg your pardon." He turned to Tauriel and with a jerk of his head he signalled her to step aside with him.

"I thought I made it clear that you were expected to report to me every three hours," he hissed. Her shoulders slumped but she did not drop her gaze. "I'm sorry, I lost track of the time." The corporal threw a short glance at Legolas before turning back towards Tauriel and his face reflected the agitation he was suppressing. "If you do this once more, you will spend the next two months at the gate. I value discipline in my unit and negligence will not be tolerated." "Yes, Corporal." Tauriel bowed her head and Legolas watched her cheeks turn crimson.

He could not hold back any longer and interjected, "Corporal, I am afraid it was my fault. I detained your recruit from her duties and I apologise." The officer clearly did not know what to say, so after a short pause he answered, "Not at all. Your highness, may I send one of my other soldiers to accompany you to the palace?" Legolas declined. He understood perfectly well that this was a politely phrased way of bidding him good riddance. He caught Tauriel's look; it was a silent plea for him to leave.

So he mounted his horse again while the corporal ordered the two guards who had arrived with him to return to their posts. Legolas saw them vanish between the trees when he started his way, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Before the next turn of the path he threw a look back at Tauriel and the corporal. They were speaking to each other in hushed voices but he caught a few words. "Relax, Fiondir, nothing happened, for Eru's sake!" "I thought you had been eaten by spiders! You scared me to death!" Legolas wondered for a moment but he thought it best to stay out of their business.

* * *

"I will do my best not to disappoint you, father," Legolas said, trying to sound as confident as possible. He was standing next to Thranduil on one of the three watchtowers overseeing the above-ground part of the palace. Most of the time it was not actually occupied by watchmen, so the king had claimed it as his personal refuge whenever he was looking for solitude. This morning he had brought Legolas up there to discuss a matter of great importance with him.

The day before he had given his son the opportunity to settle, to catch up with the people he had not seen in a while and to rest after his long journey. Now, however, Legolas sensed that it was time for some serious changes. He still could not believe that the king had just informed him about his plans to get him actively involved in governing the realm. Of course he had always known that this day would come, but now that it was happening, it made him feel completely inadequate.

Thranduil smiled at him – an unusual sight, but Legolas attributed it to both the sunny weather and his father's joy to be reunited with him after such a long time, and he hoped it would last a while. "Ion nin," the king replied, "do not trouble yourself. If you should indeed disappoint me in whatever manner, I must blame myself for not giving you sufficient guidance. We will take small steps and you will not be given any responsibility until you are ready to bear it." His words reassured Legolas. As intimidating as the king could be at times and as often as Legolas complained about his peculiarities, Thranduil had always been his safe haven and during his absence he had often missed his father's council.

"I deem it best for you to get a deeper knowledge of the realm's defence system first," the king continued, "Therefore I have informed the chief of guards that you will assist him in his daily duties. He will take you under his wing and show you how the armed forces are organised." Legolas was relieved at the prospect of getting to do something he was interested in. He had been afraid to be locked up in a gloomy study for the next decade, but following the captain around would certainly not be too tiresome. Although the old warrior was not known to be a particularly chatty or light-hearted fellow, Legolas got along with him fairly well and was sure to learn a lot from him. The prince knew that he would not be spared the more monotonous parts of the royal everyday work either, but he was grateful that his father was granting him a more pleasant settling-in period.

"How did Rochanar react to the idea of getting a new shadow?" the prince wondered. Thranduil tilted his head – obviously he had not wasted much thought on the captain's opinion. "He will do as required," he simply replied, but after a pause and a look at his son's uncomfortable expression he added, "You know he has always valued your courage and skill." A smile spread over Legolas' face. He was not used to his father's praise and especially after their long separation it felt just as good as the warm morning sunrays on his face.

"It's good to be back, father," he said after a while. The king took a moment to react but then he put his arm around his son's shoulder. "I am glad to have you back as well."

* * *

Legolas made his way downstairs to the subterranean training yard below the guard's quarters. He had spent the last two hours with the captain who had explained the basic organisational structure of the Woodland guard to him. The system was far more complex than he had expected: There was one section that guarded the palace and its surroundings and one that patrolled the forest. The latter was in turn divided into the regular forest guard and the border guard. Both sections consisted of larger divisions and smaller units and functioned according to a fairly complicated rotational shift system. Legolas had lost the thread various times during the captain's explanation but he figured that he would grasp the concept soon enough.

Now he was on his way to a more practical appointment: The captain wanted to assess his new apprentice's skill with the blade. As he entered the training yard, he could not help but smile at the memories connected to that place. When he had been a little elfling, his father had taken him down there to teach him the basics of archery and sword fighting. He still remembered how proud he had been when his arrow had hit the mark for the first time and how Thranduil had let him win most of their make-believe duels. Those had been some of the few occasions when he had seen his father laugh.

Legolas looked around. The training yard was an ample cave with walls of crude rock and lots of gigantic stalagmites that almost touched the ceiling. These natural columns were perfect to simulate forest battles. In the centre of the cave there was a large open space that could be used for all kinds of group or individual training. When there were no lessons scheduled, the guards were allowed to use the yard for their own purposes.

The chief had not arrived yet but Legolas could hear that he was not alone. From between the stalagmites he saw two soldiers training with longswords; to his surprise he recognised Tauriel and the corporal he had met briefly the day before. They had not noticed him yet, so Legolas, being curious to see his friend's swordplay skills, stepped behind a huge stalagmite to observe their duel.

The corporal had just won a round by disarming Tauriel who looked rather demotivated. "Did I mention that I hate the longsword?" she grumbled, picking up her weapon from the floor. The corporal shook his head. "Not within the last ten minutes. Again?" "I don't have a choice, do I? I need to learn it somehow…" She sighed, pulling a long face. "Don't get discouraged. Your last move was very good, except you need to be faster," Legolas heard the corporal say. He was relieved that the officer was talking to Tauriel so patiently, after the unpleasant scene he had witnessed in the forest.

Tauriel lifted her sword and attacked. It was a smooth and focussed stroke that her opponent parried with ease before attacking her in turn. It took him four moves to get her out of her comfort zone and two more to back her up against a stalagmite, his blade on her neck.

"How many times have you killed me by now?" Tauriel asked in a frustrated tone and Legolas could literally see the anger at herself boil up in her. The corporal obviously noticed it as well because he refrained from an answer. "One more try, agreed?" he suggested, "And this time, even though you think it's ridiculous, imagine I'm an orc or a troll or maybe the captain on a really grumpy day." Tauriel managed a weak grin. "Fine, here we go!"

She took a deep breath, found her attacking position and opened the duel. Legolas counted the strokes and noticed with satisfaction that she was improving. So did the corporal, judging by his face, but his approval of his student's progress obviously distracted him too much from his own defence. Tauriel soon gained the upper hand and eventually managed to disarm him. His sword hit the stone floor with a loud clank that echoed in the cave.

He looked down at his hand; even from the distance Legolas could see that it was bleeding. "Well, I'd say you're getting the hang of it," the corporal stated with a grimace. Tauriel dropped her sword, took a quick step towards him and stuttered, "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…" But she did not get the chance to finish the sentence because the corporal took the opportunity and, in one fluent movement, grabbed her around the waist, threw her on the ground and pinned her down. "Never apologise," he grinned, "Would you say sorry if I was an orc?"

Tauriel chuckled. "If you were an orc, there would probably be a lot more things I wouldn't do to you… By the way, you're bleeding on my sleeve." "And whose fault is that?" he replied, released his grip and helped her back up, "At least my blood wasn't spilt in vain; in this last round you did fantastically." Tauriel smiled at him. "Thank you – for your patience and your willingness to be my substitute orc." "Anytime," he gave back.

Legolas could hardly believe his eyes when he saw what happened next: The corporal pulled Tauriel towards him and kissed her! And if that was not enough, she obviously seemed to enjoy it. Legolas' astonishment could not have been bigger if a warg had just licked his face. It felt extremely strange to see his childhood friend kiss a man – and judging from what he saw, the two of them had had quite a bit of practice.

Legolas discreetly turned away. Apparently the innocent little girl he had left behind four years ago had grown up. The revelation caught him by surprise but after all it was nothing unlikely and he could have expected this to happen some day or another. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong with the idea of his friend being involved in a romantic relationship. It was the fact that the news had hit him without any premonition that irritated him.

The prince's contemplation was brutally interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the entrance of the training yard. The chief of guards arrived in full armour, carrying various weapons and making lots of noise with all the metal clinging to his body. "Your highness," he greeted the prince in his usual loud voice and Legolas could have choked him for revealing his presence to Tauriel and the corporal by addressing him with his title. He managed a nod before glancing back at the two soldiers who suddenly looked very professional again, collected their weapons and headed toward the exit. Both of them saluted when they passed the captain; the corporal also bowed his head to Legolas but Tauriel seemed very busy sheathing her sword and carefully avoided eye contact with him.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the captain, who had dropped all his weapons on the floor, gestured towards the exit and asked, "Did you see this recruit? My discovery of the century! I haven't seen such talent with a bow since – well, since you, to be honest. But I don't want to spoil your spirit with too much praise, right?" He slapped Legolas on the shoulder with his plate-sized hand and the prince had to suppress a grimace of pain which he turned into a half-hearted smile. "Shall we start with the blades?" the captain asked, pulling two daggers out of the pile on the floor. "Of course," Legolas managed to agree and drew his own weapons.

His mind was still occupied with the memory of Tauriel and the corporal, so he did not feel confident at all to face anyone in a duel, let alone the chief of guards himself who was renowned for his skill as well as his brute force. In his shiny silver armour he looked even more intimidating than usually. 'If this ogre massacres me, it's entirely her fault,' he stated to himself, but passing the blame on to Tauriel did not provide as much comfort as he had hoped.

* * *

When he dragged himself to the courtyard, Legolas was feeling both the physical pain and the embarrassment of his miserably failed duel with the captain. Rochanar had defeated him in a mercilessly unspectacular way and managed to break half the bones in his body in the process – or at least that was what it felt like. His performance had been far below his usual level and he still resented himself for being so distracted by the scene he had witnessed before the captain's arrival. For the moment, all he wanted to do was to hide away for the next two to three centuries.

Having fulfilled his duties for the day, he decided that the best way to soothe his pain and take his mind off the embarrassment was to retreat to the library and start reading up on the theoretical foundations of military strategies. The shortest way to get there led past the entrance of the armoury. And who, of all the people he did not wish to see in that particular moment, was standing there, trying to catch the last rays of sunlight of the evening?

"Meldis nin," he addressed her, making an effort to sound indifferent. Tauriel, who had not noticed him until then, span around and gave him a look that was surprise, insecurity and pretended innocence all at once. "What happened to you?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, "You look as if you had been trampled by a herd of mumakil." "That particular mumak turned out to be Rochanar," Legolas replied dryly, "Apparently my training session did not go half as well as yours." Tauriel assessed him with a sceptical look and although she did not respond, Legolas could read from her face that she knew exactly where this conversation was going. He was determined to provoke a reaction, so he simply rambled on, "The best part is that now the chief of guards thinks I have the sword skill of a one-armed cave troll and most likely my father will have heard of it by tonight as well." "I'm sorry to hear it," Tauriel mumbled, "Next time you'll be prepared." Legolas noticed that she obviously saw through his little mind game and, being as stubborn as she had always been, was not willing to play along.

So he abandoned the subtlety and moved right on to the subject. "I saw how the corporal kissed you in the training yard." Her expression did not change a lot and she simply answered, "Obviously." Now that he had spilt it out, Legolas was not sure how to proceed. "Uhm, yes, well… Does he do that often?" Before he had even finished the sentence, he noticed how stupid it sounded. So did Tauriel and tried very hard not to burst out laughing. "Occasionally, yes," she replied. Legolas crossed his arms and gazed at her, trying to maintain a stern expression. "So, in all those letters you wrote to me you couldn't spare one line to tell me that you had a suitor?" She shrugged. "It's not like that…" Clearly the topic made her uncomfortable but Legolas did not feel as gracious as to drop it yet. A small and very mean part of him enjoyed picking on her. "I'm no expert but that kiss looked a lot 'like that' to me." "Look," Tauriel tried to explain, her face slowly but steadily turning red, "it's nothing… official. We're not engaged or anything." She was thoroughly examining her fingernails now.

Legolas could not help but chuckle at her embarrassment. "Nothing official, I see. So much for Nimiel's selfless efforts to turn you into a lady." Her elbow hit him right on the spot where Rochanar's sword handle had left a bruise not half an hour before and he gasped in pain. "Don't even try to make me believe that you go by that whole antiquated Second Age morality," Tauriel hissed in his ear. Legolas thougt about the black-haired harp player in Minas Tirith and decided to drop the subject.

Instead he muttered, "I'm surprised you didn't tell me. I thought, us being friends, you would at least mention things like that to me." Tauriel's face softened and she answered, "Well, I guess I didn't want to shout it from the rooftops. It wouldn't be the wisest move as long as I'm a recruit with his unit. I'm sorry." She offered him a shy smile that made her look once again like the young girl he had known before and his discomfort melted.

"You're right," he said, "I just always thought I would be around when men started to queue up for your attention. And that I would be there to beat up anyone who didn't treat you as well as you deserved." Tauriel caught his disapproving look and put her hand on his arm. "That's really sweet and I appreciate your concern, mellon nin. But first of all, I'm perfectly able to do the beating myself, and second, who says Fiondir doesn't treat me well?" "I didn't like the way he talked to you yesterday," Legolas could not help saying. Tauriel let out a deep breath. "He was worried and there were other guards around. Besides, I deserved it – I still want to slap myself in the face for being so careless on duty." Legolas' frown revealed that he was not entirely convinced. "Mellon nin," Tauriel said with a stern expression, "I hate to say this to you, but this is really none of your business. I'm so glad you're finally back, so can we please not argue about an imaginary problem?"

Legolas sensed that she was serious. Although he was slightly hurt by her rejecting his well-meant concern, he decided to let the matter rest for now and keep an eye on the situation from a distance.


	8. Green-eyed Monsters

Five guards stood at the main gate, hoods pulled deep into their faces, gloved hands buried beneath their dark green cloaks. The rain had turned the courtyard into a small lake district and the icy wind did not make things more agreeable. They were waiting for their corporal to join them after taking the captain's orders.

Tauriel looked into the faces of her four comrades – their expressions reflected about the same amount of enthusiasm she was feeling. At least it would be dryer and less windy in the forest because there the thick leaf canopy provided some protection from the weather.

Finally they saw Fiondir approach them. The water was already pouring down his face and he did not even bother avoiding the puddles as he crossed the courtyard because it was pointless anyway. "Eastern river bend, below the road junction," he indicated the rough direction they had been sent to. "Perfect, more water," a guard named Sidhril grumbled next to Tauriel.

As the unit advanced into the forest, Fiondir detailed the captain's orders to his soldiers. "The spider attacks reported in that area have increased during the last two weeks. We are supposed to watch out for any signs of a new nest, and if we find one, destroy it."

Tauriel frowned. Yet another new spider nest? The forest guard had eliminated one not three weeks ago. Maybe it was only her impression, but she thought the beasts were growing bolder every time the guard drove them back. There had not been any settlements near the old fortress of Dol Guldur for decades and nobody went near it on purpose, but everyone knew that was where the spiders came from – and the bats and the poisonous black butterflies, for what it was worth.

Tauriel took off her hood. The rain had not stopped but thanks to the trees it did not reach the ground anymore. So much the better, she thought. The unit was going to spend the next three days and two nights in the forest and Tauriel knew from experience that the weather was directly proportional to her own morale as well as her comrades'. After spending countless hours of monotonous patrol and occasional fighting with them, she claimed to know these five people fairly well.

There was of course Fiondir, the corporal with the icy eyes and the fiery temper who made her furious by still treating her like an inexperienced recruit sometimes and who could charm her like a snake and wrap her around his little finger without her even minding.

Then there was Sidhril, very maidenly and far too delicate for the common notion of a female guard, but her blade was as deadly as her tongue was sharp and Tauriel had found a true friend in her.

Lainon did not talk much and when he did, he usually said sensible things. He was a bastion of calm, a pragmatist and the sort of person who saved the day and then walked away without even waiting to be thanked.

Argal and Bardir, to complete the sextet, were brothers, had a fairly strange sense of humour and functioned together as efficiently as the two arms of one man.

The unit reached their destination around noon and found the other six soldiers who had done the previous shift ready to leave. There had been no major incidents during the last days but the leader of the other unit still advised them to be vigilant, especially because there was a settlement nearby that would need protection in case of emergency.

Fiondir decided not to send everyone off on their own immediately, like he usually did, but to stay together and gain an overview of the terrain first. None of them were too familiar with the area because it had been a long time since they had last been there, and knowing about the spider infestation he did not want to take any risk.

They had roamed the forest for about an hour, located the village and decided to split up at the next road junction. Fiondir was just assigning them their respective directions when they heard suspicious noises coming from the shadows beneath the trees. Tauriel drew her bow, as did her companions, and slowly they advanced into the dark, trying not to make a sound. Being highly-trained elven forest guards, they were fairly good at walking unseen and unheard, and it did not take them long to find the source of the noise.

There was something, or someone, moving on an old path nearby that had been abandoned for years and was almost overgrown by all sorts of vegetation. The guards could not see the intruders through the leaves but they could hear their footsteps and, suddenly, the characteristic sound of bowstrings being bent and blades being unsheathed. Tauriel's heart started to beat faster. The next guard unit was far away and the villagers did not venture that deeply into the forest, so the logical conclusion at hand was either orcs or Lakemen.

Tauriel looked at Fiondir whose eyes were focussed in the direction of the path. He turned to his comrades and signalled them to prepare to attack. Tauriel tightened her grip around her bow. She could hear footsteps approaching. The branches of the juniper trees separating their hiding place from the old path were rustling.

The next moment things started to happen very quickly: A hooded figure burst out of the bushes with drawn blades right next to Lainon. He ducked away and Fiondir fired an arrow at the attacker which missed his head only by an inch because Sidhril was just about to knock him down with her bow handle. Before Tauriel could take a closer look at him, more people broke through the juniper trees. Only in that instant she realised that they were actually Woodland guards!

Before anyone else shot an arrow or dealt a stroke, both Tauriel's unit and their misjudged comrades froze and looked at each other in confusion. The one in the hood who had nearly been shot by Fiondir now rose from the ground and shouted, "Everyone calm down, for Eru's sake!"

Tauriel did not believe her eyes. "Legolas? What the…" she blurted, her stomach turning at the realisation that her friend had just escaped death by a mere inch. But she stopped in the middle of the sentence when she saw the utter shock on Fiondir's face. He lowered his bow, his hands trembling, and all colour vanished from his cheeks.

After a moment of paralysis he shouted at Legolas, "What in Manwe's name is wrong with you to creep through the forest like this? I could have killed you!" He did not even try to suppress his agitation and Tauriel knew that at this stage it would have been pointless anyway. Legolas raised an eyebrow and tried to look as collected as possible but it was obvious to Tauriel that he too was struggling to maintain his countenance. "Indeed you could," he said in an icy tone, "It may be a good idea to look before you shoot, Corporal."

Tauriel instinctively took a step towards Fiondir. He was fuming with rage and she could not tell if it was because he had almost shot the prince or because he had missed. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then he addressed Legolas again, his voice still trembling. "May I ask what you are doing here… your highness?" The title came a little too late to be taken as a serious sign of deference. Legolas ignored the implied insult. "We are searching this area for a spider nest. Frankly, we thought that we had found it when we heard you, so far away from the posts where you are supposed to be," he gave back coldly and sheathed his daggers. "Eliminating the spiders is the task of the forest guard," Fiondir stated, "I assure you that we can handle the situation." Legolas' expression was both annoyance and sarcasm. "This unit has been put together by the captain especially for the purpose of destroying that nest. Now, if you please, I would like to finish my mission before nightfall – preferably without being assaulted again."

With that he turned around and signalled his soldiers to retreat. Before vanishing between the juniper trees he threw a look back at Tauriel. She caught it and rolled her eyes – she was so tired of Legolas and Fiondir quarrelling that she did not even take it seriously anymore.

When the other soldiers were gone, Fiondir made an effort to regain his composure. "Back to the road junction," he commanded and started walking. Tauriel sighed and exchanged a look with Sidhril who only shook her head in silent disbelief.

At the junction the guards separated and headed in their respective directions. Right before Tauriel left the path Fiondir came after her and caught her arm.

"What was I supposed to do, mmh?" he asked her with a cold half-smile that was all disapproval. Tauriel shrugged, bewildered. "I didn't even say anything…" "Exactly, and that's a bad sign with you," he insisted, "Tell me, Tauriel, why is it he risks both his life and my position by jumping in front of my bow, then graciously advises me to 'look before I shoot' although I've already been hunting spiders in this darned forest before he was even born, and still you reproach me for overreacting? Because that's what you do, I can tell from that little frown you're trying to hide."

She let out a deep breath. "I know Legolas annoys you but can't we just say it was an unhappy coincidence with a harmless ending? If you're so much more mature than him, why don't you prove it by ignoring him?" "A hard task to accomplish when I don't even know what I've done to him in the first place," Fiondir stated harshly before his expression softened, "Well, except snatching you from under his nose. But that's hardly a crime he can blame me for. I think his behaviour is rather pathetic and unprofessional."

Tauriel could not deny the truth in Fiondir's last point, but on the other hand she thought that both of them were acting ridiculously. "For the hundredth time: He feels protective of me, that's all. First impressions are strong and if you don't like that, you shouldn't have put me down in front of my best friend the first time you met him. Besides, why are you pretending to be jealous? We've established that we're not that kind of couple." She hated it when he became too possessive despite the fact that they had defined the casual character of their relationship in mutual agreement long ago. Fiondir smiled ironically. "True, but the kind of couple we are is still worth defending, or isn't it, my beautiful little shrew?" His fingertip traced a line from her cheek down to her neck. Tauriel cursed herself for it but both his flattery and his teasing worked on her every single time although she knew exactly that her indulgence only massaged his ego.

"Fine," she hissed, annoyed but unable to suppress a smirk, "Is that all you wanted to say?" She threw a look in direction of her post in the forest. "Almost," he answered, took her face in both hands and covered her mouth with a kiss. A familiar shiver ran down her spine. 'Why, by the Valar, do I see right through this and still fall for it?' she asked herself.

"Be careful," he said when he released her. She nodded. "You too." With that she started her way into the dark coppice.

* * *

The day was passing without any sight of spiders or other unwelcome encounters. For about two hours Tauriel had been walking slowly back and forth between two distinctive trees she had chosen as her landmarks. It took her around ten minutes to get from one to the other and on the way she passed several spots that provided a good view of the path she was supposed to secure. Two villagers had walked past her without being aware of her presence; she took it as a compliment on her subtlety.

The first time she heard the call of a grey owl she thought it was an actual bird. The second time she started to wonder but still hesitated. When she heard it for the third time she realised that it was indeed an emergency call from one of her comrades, probably Sidhril who was positioned closest to her. Tauriel drew her daggers and worked her way through the coppice as fast as she could.

The first thing she saw was a huge black body coming down from a tree and landing right in front of her on the leaf-covered ground. The spider clicked its fangs and eyed her hungrily but she was quick enough to thrust her dagger into its mouth before it could attack her. The beast collapsed, shrieking, and unblocked the sight of what was happening: There were dozens of spiders all around, on the ground, in the trees, basically everywhere. Tauriel could see Sidhril aiming at them and bringing them down one by one but there were far too many for her to keep up.

Tauriel's first arrow impaled a spider that was right behind Sidhril, the second one pierced the eyes of another that was just about to grab her by the leg. "Thank goodness!" Sidhril shouted, "I was wondering if anyone would come!" "Sorry," Tauriel gave back and sliced through a spider's foremost legs, causing it to tumble and giving her the chance to stab it.

She looked around; more and more beasts kept emerging from the shadows. Sidhril had drawn her sword and started slicing and stabbing about because they had come too close for her to shoot them. Tauriel was facing three spiders at once now and could hardly deny that it was pure luck that led her dagger to the right spots before one of them could bite her. Where, in Eru's name, were the other guards? Had they not heard the call or were they kept away by more spiders?

"Help!" Sidhril's scream came in the most inconvenient moment. Tauriel was holding on to the underside of a spider, where the fangs could not reach her, and sliced through what she assumed was its throat. Its legs gave way a little more abruptly than she had anticipated and its massive body buried her. "Sidhril!" she shouted but she could not possibly help her friend who had been circled by four or five spiders, one of which was dangerously close to her. Tauriel struggled and pushed but she could not free herself from the carcass.

The cry of pain she heard a moment later could not possibly have come out of a spider's mouth. Tauriel's heart skipped a beat when she saw Sidhril on the ground, her leg bleeding, and two spiders above her, ready to bite again.

Tauriel felt like the weight of the cadaver was going to crush her ribs. She could not determine if it was the lack of air, the creature's foul smell or the fear for Sidhril's life that made her nauseous. As if that was not enough, she heard another spider's fangs click very close to her right ear. Her brain quit service and a sheer survival instinct took over. By applying all the force her leg muscles could provide, she managed to lift the carcass high enough to free her arms and reach for one of her daggers to thrust it in the direction where the noise had come from. A shriek and a thud on the ground told her that she had succeeded. After another effort she could finally free herself.

She took up her bow, her vision still blurry from the lack of oxygen, and aimed at Sidhril's attackers, but before she could shoot, she saw the first spider rear up and collapse, an arrow in its eye, followed by the second one only a moment later. Sidhril had managed to drag herself away with a grimace of pain.

The first person she saw emerge between the trees was Legolas – no wonder, she thought, who else could aim like that under such difficult circumstances? He was followed by the four other members of his spider-hunting unit who started to systematically eliminate the rest of the beasts while Legolas knelt down beside Sidhril. Tauriel joined the guards in shooting the remaining spiders and soon there were no more alive ones left.

She rushed over to her injured friend. Sidhril's face was pale and her calf was bleeding badly but she had not been paralysed by the spider poison so far. "Are you all right?" she asked Tauriel who could not help but let out a laugh of both relief and worry. "Better than you, apparently. I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough." "Shut up! I thought that thing had crushed you," Sidhril said and managed a weak smile.

Tauriel exchanged a look with Legolas. His uncomfortable expression reminded her of their encounter earlier that day and her dismissive reaction. "Mellon nin..," she started but he interrupted her, "This wound needs bandaging. Can you do that?" Tauriel glanced at him and his face left no doubt that he was in no mood to talk to her. As soon as she nodded, he rose and walked over to his soldiers. She felt a lump in her throat but there were more urgent issues to worry about now.

As far as Tauriel could see, the spider bite was not too deep and the bleeding could be stopped. She took out the emergency medical supply every guard had to carry and wrapped a bandage firmly around Sidhril's calf. "Can you still move your foot?" she asked her friend who affirmed by proving it. "Then it was obviously not a poisonous spider that bit you," Tauriel stated, "It's only the females, you know." Sidhril bit back a groan of pain. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that." "My brother studies them for medical reasons," Tauriel told her anyway, just to say something, because she saw Legolas look in their direction and she preferred to pretend ignorance.

Her effort was in vain. He came back, still not paying any attention to Tauriel, and helped Sidhril get up. "Can you walk like this?" he asked, offering her his arm for support. "What choice do I have?" she gave back, trying to find her balance. "We're taking you home with us," he declared, "It is the least we can do after driving the spiders out of their nest." "So it's you we have to thank for this, your highness?" Sidhril grumbled, throwing him a glare that could have pierced his eyes out – if it had only been more serious. Tauriel frowned but she refrained from any comment.

"It's Legolas," the prince replied, "After nearly getting you killed I can hardly expect you to address me so formally." There it was, that cheeky half-grin that had got Tauriel in trouble so many times as a child. 'Unbelievable!' she thought, trying to look as indifferent as she could. Legolas continued, "And at least now we're even. That knock with your bow handle, remember?" "Oh please, after all it saved you from getting shot!" Sidhril protested and rolled her eyes. So did Tauriel, but for different reasons.

A moment later Lainon, Argal, Bardir and Fiondir burst out of the coppice. All four of them looked like they had been through a substantial fight as well. They did not need to ask any questions to figure out what had happened. Fiondir came rushing towards Sidhril and Tauriel. She noticed that he was limping, but it did not seem too dramatic. "Have you been bitten?" he asked Sidhril who nodded but assured him that there was no reason to be alarmed. "Apparently it wasn't a poisonous one or else I wouldn't be able to move one finger by now." Fiondir's posture relaxed, only to tighten again when Legolas addressed him. "Corporal, we are going to take this soldier back to the palace. One of us will stay with your unit in exchange." Fiondir gave him a short nod but said nothing more to him.

"What about you?" he asked Tauriel. "I'm fine," she quickly replied. To her surprise, now that Fiondir was present, Legolas seemed willing to acknowledge her existence again. "She would probably be dead, just like her comrade, if we had not been lucky enough to hear them call for aid," he snarled, "I should say your emergency communication system needs improving." Tauriel blinked in utter disbelief.

Fiondir took his time to reply. Tauriel could see his jaw clench but he spoke very calmly. "Do not tell me how to command my unit. Until I have seen you accomplish anything more impressive than setting a swarm of bloodthirsty spiders on my soldiers, I do not see the point in taking your advice – your highness." This time his pronunciation left no doubt that the title was meant as an insult. "Corporal, you might want to reconsider your tone. Unlike Tauriel I am not willing to put up with your insolence." Legolas' voice was as sharp as a newly forged blade but Fiondir did not bat an eye. "Why do you think I care about your good opinion? And as for Tauriel, I am sure she can decide for herself what she is willing to put up with."

"Indeed I can!" Tauriel interjected. Enough was enough! If the two of them chose to behave like stubborn children, that was their own problem, but as soon as they dragged her into it – after deliberately ignoring her not five minutes before, in Legolas' case – she needed to draw the battle lines. "Cut it out, both of you! If you want to slice each other's throats, fine, but please have regards for everyone else and do it in private!" With that she turned on her heels and walked away.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped at Legolas' soldiers who had been watching the scene with blatant curiosity. She was so done with this! Without another word she set off to return to her watch post.

* * *

"Just say it, Nimiel, I can handle it!" Tauriel leaned against the doorframe of the waiting room at the houses of healing and looked into her foster mother's slightly tense face. "Say what?" Nimiel asked innocently but Tauriel knew she had got the hint.

She had come to the healing quarters to inquire after Sidhril directly after the unit had returned from their three day patrol. There had been no more critical incidents, except Fiondir's apparent desire to massacre everyone who tried to address him with his bare hands during the first few hours after his confrontation with Legolas. In the meantime he had calmed down but Tauriel was still glad not to be stuck in the forest with him for the next two days.

She threw a suggestive glance with an arched eyebrow at Nimiel. "I'm waiting. Come on, you'll choke on it…" "Tauriel, please don't push it," the healer replied with a stern expression, "I do not think this is a joke at all. It could just as easily have been you instead of Sidhril. There, I said it." She crossed her arms defensively. "It could have been any of us," Tauriel tried to appease her, "It's part of our work. We do this so that everyone else can be safe. Just as you sew together disgusting wounds and heal gross diseases." Nimiel sighed deeply and put her hand on her foster daughter's arm. "The only difference is that you do not pray to the Valar to bring me back home alive every time you see me leave for work. I know I should be proud of you – and I am, believe me – but I cannot bear the thought of losing another loved one to those beasts." Tauriel did not know what to answer to that. Nimiel's trauma of watching her husband die of blood poisoning after a spider bite had always made Tauriel's career choice a serious issue between the two of them.

They stood silently for a moment, but then Nimiel regained her composure, gave Tauriel a forced but benevolent smile and hugged her. "I'm glad you're back for now, my dear. Do you want to see your friend?" Tauriel nodded and Nimiel signalled her to follow her. "She has recovered very well and by tomorrow she will be released," the healer explained on their way along the corridor, "I'm glad to say that the pain at least did not damp her spirits. She had delightful company though…"

Nimiel suddenly paused, biting her lip and looking a little awkward. "What's wrong? What company was so delightful?" Tauriel asked, confused at her mother's behaviour. Nimiel stopped and was obviously looking for a way to phrase the subject. "You see, after Legolas brought her in the day before yesterday, he seemed very concerned for her well-being. He visited her yesterday and this morning and stayed quite a while both times. They seemed to be very much… at ease in each other's company." Tauriel remembered what had happened in the forest and could only just stop her face from producing a sarcastic look, but she did not understand Nimiel's point in getting so worked up about it. "So?" she simply asked.

"So, I think this might be more than a bad consciousness. I can, of course, be mistaken, but I wanted to warn you nevertheless." Nimiel's face reflected her distress but Tauriel still could not figure out what she was talking about. "You're saying that Legolas might be interested in Sidhril?" she assured herself, "Why would you 'warn' me about that?"

If Nimiel had not always been drilled to be a paragon of poise, she would have bitten her fingernails. "Tauriel, my darling, I did not want the news to hit you unexpectedly in his or her presence. I was concerned it might unsettle you."

Now Tauriel came to realise what Nimiel was trying to tell her. She could not for the world figure out a better reaction than slamming her head softly against the nearest wall. "Nimiel, listen: Legolas can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants for all I care. How do you even get these ideas?" Her mother looked rather helpless. "I don't know, by watching the two of you together, I assumed…" "No! Just… no!" Tauriel could not think of a more elaborate answer.

In the name of all the Valar, had her mother gone insane? Of course the answer was no. No, plain and simple. She would be happy for Legolas if Nimiel's impression was indeed true – well, at least as soon as he treated her nicely again. So, obviously: No.

Entering Sidhril's room, Tauriel was greeted by the pleasant sight of her friend sitting at the edge of her bed with a book on her lap, not looking sick at all anymore. "Meldis nin, how nice of you to come!" she exclaimed when she saw her. The relief of seeing Sidhril so well recovered melted the strange feeling Nimiel's words had left. Tauriel sat down on a wooden chair next to the bed and obliged Sidhril by telling her about the two days of patrol she had missed. "There really wasn't anything worth mentioning after you left and I'm not sure if I myself wouldn't have preferred a spider bite to the combination of rain, boredom and Fiondir's bad temper," she summarised.

Sidhril started grinning. "You know what I've always wanted to tell you, Tauriel? Life as a guard has become a lot more interesting since you joined our unit." Tauriel could not follow. "Uhm, why exactly?" "Because two years ago all we had was an exhaustingly dutiful corporal and a daily routine as predictable as tomorrow's sunrise. Now there is so much drama every time Fiondir and the prince meet. Quite frankly, I think it's better than any novel." She giggled while Tauriel looked at her in complete bewilderment. "I-I'm glad that there's at least one person who seems to enjoy it," she muttered.

Then another thought came to her mind and she heard it leave her lips before she could stop herself. "Speaking of the prince… Have you seen anything of him these last two days?" At least she managed to make it sound fairly casual. Sidhril nodded. "Well, yes, he came to enquire after me – briefly," she replied, a nearly invisible blush appearing on her cheeks, "He brought me this book. It's about the war of the Last Alliance – pretty gory but I told him that I needed to read something exciting to take my mind off the pain. Very considerate of him, isn't it?" "Yes, sure, I guess," Tauriel gave back, "You'd better watch out or he'll recite the whole damn poem about Sauron's defeat to you." She rolled her eyes but Sidhril did not seem to think it an odd notion at all. "Actually he invited me to look at some of the old weapons that were in that battle. Apparently the king still keeps them somewhere. Legolas wants to show them to me tomorrow when I get out of here."

Tauriel nodded and forced her face to smile. She suddenly felt an urge to break something but she could not for the life of her figure out where it came from. She blamed it on her exhaustion after the long patrol; it certainly had nothing to do with Legolas or Sidhril or any rusty old swords. Of course not. Just… no!


	9. Red Grapes

_Omg, what can I even say about this chapter? It's a little gooey and I apologise in advance :) I took the liberty of giving Grumpy Ada some more stage time than he usually gets and I really hope you won't want to kill me for what I did to him. I promise, he won't steal Legolas and Tauriel's spotlight again soon. As for Legolas, let's all be very patient with him, he's only a little pointy-eared princeling who doesn't know better yet._

* * *

The arrow made a buzzing noise when it left Tauriel's bow and gave a soft knock when it pierced the centre of the last wooden target. Ten out of ten – that should be enough practice for the day. She shouldered the bow and crossed the training yard to collect her arrows. There were two other soldiers in the cave who were training with their swords between the giant stalagmites. Tauriel glanced over to them and noticed that they in turn were watching her discreetly. When they caught her look, one of them gave her an appreciative nod before turning back to his comrade.

Tauriel hurried to pluck out her arrows and leave the training yard. She did not like being judged by the other members of her new unit, not even when she knew she was doing well. All of them were excellent soldiers and although Tauriel had already gained their acceptance by proving her skill, she still felt inadequate in such illustrious company.

Her transfer to the special operations unit three weeks ago had hit her by surprise. She would never have expected it, having been with the guard for no more than seven years. But the captain had been determined to take her out of her forest guard unit and give her a place among the twenty soldiers who completed all sorts of tasks outside the regular guard duties, including sensitive missions and special orders by the king.

So far Tauriel had not done anything spectacular except guarding the throne room during negotiations – after a seemingly endless lecture on discretion given by the captain – and eliminating a pack of goblins near the western border together with her comrades. Most of her tasks did not differ too much from the ones she was used to; parts of her unit were often sent to the forest to look for spider nests or to escort officials to the settlements for various purposes. She hoped that she would someday get the opportunity to travel beyond the borders of the realm, as most of her new comrades had already done during their many years of service.

After her self-scheduled training session, which was expected of her as well as of the rest of her unit on a daily basis, Tauriel could not think of any more excuses to postpone her afternoon off duty. Having known nothing but three day shifts so far, she was not used to such short intervals of duty and almost felt guilty for finding nothing work-related to do. She had already sharpened her blades, restringed her bow and mended her uniform half a dozen times within the last three weeks and she spent about twice as much time in the training yard as her comrades. The special operations unit paid for their generous working hours with the fact that they were constantly on standby and ready to take the captain's orders at all times. Besides, no small part of their missions were very risky endeavours, so the idle hours were perfectly justified. But still, it was not easy for Tauriel to adapt to that radical change.

She was of course excited about the new challenges but sometimes she caught herself thinking wistfully about the familiar routine of forest patrol with her former unit. She missed her old friends, Sidhril most of all, with whom she could hardly spend time anymore due to their different working schedules. There was one advantage, however: Not being in the patrol unit anymore meant not seeing a lot of Fiondir either. Tauriel could not deny that she was a little relieved about this elegant way of getting rid of him. During the last few months they had ended up getting on each other's nerves more than anything else. When they ran into each other by chance now, they exchanged a passing word or two, but there were no more interactions of any other kind and Tauriel had to admit that her life had become calmer since then.

She wondered what to do with the afternoon. All the people she could have possibly enjoyed spending time with were busy – Sidhril was on patrol, Nimiel and Amril were probably applying ointments on gross rashes or fixing dislocated shoulders, Legolas was on a diplomatic journey to Dale – so Tauriel decided to take a walk. She loved the forest in spring. The blossoms and the fresh leaves, although there were not many to be seen amongst the strange plants of suspicious colour and smell that grew rampant everywhere, made her feel cheerful every time she looked at them. There was a particular place she liked to visit during this time of the year: A lonely cherry tree between beeches, maple trees and oaks that stood modestly at the edge of the Forest River. For Tauriel it was a place of happy childhood memories and whenever she was looking for a moment of peace and quiet, she came to sit under her cherry tree.

So she did now, leaning the back of her head against the rough tree bark, listening to the birds and the sound of the river and watching white cherry petals fall into the water to be carried away. It was a meditative contemplation and Tauriel closed her eyes. Although she did not intend to, the hypnotising gurgle of the river soon made her doze off.

When she felt a light touch on her shoulder she immediately awoke and before her mind could ponder the appropriate reaction her hands had already drawn her daggers.

"Relax, for Eru's sake!" The familiar mocking voice chased away her sleepiness and made a warm feeling spread in her chest. She turned around and looked into Legolas' smiling but slightly irritated face. He was wearing his travelling attire and looked rather exhausted. "What are you doing here?", Tauriel asked him in astonishment while sheathing her daggers, "Weren't you supposed to return next week?" His alarmed expression faded. "The negotiations with the master of Dale went better than expected, so it took me less time than I had estimated. I arrived at the palace about two hours ago and thought, as long as my father is busy, I could take a moment to breathe before reporting to him. I didn't expect to find you here."

He sat down beside her, throwing a look at her daggers. "You really scared me with those! Could it be that your promotion has made you a tiny little bit paranoid?" Tauriel ignored the teasing and replied quickly, "It's not a promotion, it's a transfer." She saw a hint of a smirk appear in the corner of his mouth. "Of course, I forgot. Congratulations on surviving the first three weeks though! How does it feel to be an elite soldier?" "We're not elite, it's just another unit." She had been through this conversation with so many people during the last few weeks that the words already came automatically.

Legolas let out a deep breath as if he wanted to say, 'Seriously, who are you trying to fool here?' Instead he answered, "That's the official definition and that's what you're taught to say – but let's be honest: Everyone, including yourselves, knows that the special operations unit is the captain's gathering place for the best of the best."

His smile left no doubt of his satisfaction to see her blush. "Well, there are some really good people…" she admitted. "And you're one of them," he stated confidently. Tauriel bit her lip. "I don't know, I still feel like I don't really belong there. Most of them have been with the guard longer than I've been alive." Legolas' laugh confused her. "Meldis nin, the captain undoubtedly had his reasons to prom-… to transfer you. And I really can't say I was surprised. Now will you please stop blushing like this? It's terribly unbecoming of an elite soldier!" Tauriel nudged him with her elbow and rolled her eyes, grinning.

"So, how was Dale?" she asked, "Is it true that the paving there is made of gold?" She had read stories about that wondrous place in the East but she was not sure which part of them belonged to the imagination of the authors. "Not quite," Legolas gave back and smiled, "although it is a beautiful town with magnificent buildings and an amazing cultural life. The gold, however, comes from Erebor, where I was not allowed to enter. You can't talk to those bloody dwarves…" A frown appeared on his face but he pushed the unpleasant thought away and continued, "Whatever! Dale certainly is a sight to see. There are so many different people from all parts of the world. You can literally walk across the marketplace and hear a different language at every few steps." Tauriel's eyes widened. "Really? I should so much like to see it."

"I'm sure you will, someday. Maybe I can convince the captain to make you part of my escort the next time I go there. In the meantime…" he said and reached into one of the numerous pockets of his overcoat, "I almost forgot I brought something back for you." He produced a little pouch made of dark blue velvet and handed it to her. Tauriel opened it and a necklace with a silver pendant fell into her hand. It was drop-shaped and held a white crystal cut in the form of a star. She did not know what to say to such a precious gift. "Oh, my goodness! I… uhm… Thank you so much. You really shouldn't have…" "Well, too late, I already did" Legolas interrupted her with a grin, "The silversmiths of Dale are renowned all over Arda. I thought you might like it."

Tauriel did like it but she was a little overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture. Besides she never wore any jewellery at all and it literally was the first time in her life that she had owned something as delicate and elegant as this. "Absolutely," she managed to say, "I love it. Though I think it's far too beautiful for me." Legolas looked at her with a strange expression and mumbled something that sounded like "I wouldn't say so…" but before Tauriel could think about it he cleared his throat and continued in his normal voice, "It reminded me of you because of all the times I caught you gazing at the stars during night watch." Tauriel smiled and started blushing all over again. "So you're saying that now I won't get distracted from duty by looking up to the sky anymore because I have my own star to carry around? How thoughtful, mellon nin." She leaned over to give him a hug but he interrupted her by saying quickly, "Sure, all in order to improve your performance." He grinned but looked a little uncomfortable and very eager to redirect the conversation.

"Though you probably don't do a lot of nighttime patrol anymore, do you? By the way, do you miss your old unit?" Tauriel blinked a few times, trying to push away her irritation and follow his train of thought. "Well, sometimes… I guess. I do miss Sidhril." She regretted saying her friend's name the moment it left her lips. Legolas' strange behaviour had made her forget that Sidhril was still a rather sensitive topic with him, and vice versa. He nodded slowly, frowning. "Sidhril, yes, uhm… How is she?" "She's fine," Tauriel stated as indifferently as she could, "still as cheerful and sharp-tongued as always." Legolas forced a polite smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

After quite a while of silence Tauriel made an attempt that followed in a row of dozens of similar ones before. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened that day you took her to see those ancient swords?" She could see his jaw clench awkwardly. "She didn't tell you yet?" "Not a word", Tauriel affirmed. "Well, then she deserves my highest esteem and gratitude," Legolas concluded, obviously unwilling to discuss the subject any further, "It's getting late, shall we go back?" He rose and held out a hand to help Tauriel up, which she deliberately ignored, getting up on her own. "Fine, let's go!"

* * *

The Hall of Crystal was illuminated by hundreds of candles and as crowded as it could possibly be. Tauriel stood on her post in the corner next to the large double wing door and let her eyes slowly wander from one side to the other. It was not her first time securing a festivity but she had never been positioned inside the palace before. The larger part of the feast was going on in the courtyard whereas the Hall of Crystal was reserved for the king's closer circle or at least those who considered themselves important enough to belong to it.

Tauriel's back started to hurt but she was not supposed to move too much or to show any facial expression apart from vigilant indifference. About an hour ago Legolas had taken an infuriating pleasure in trying to make her laugh but she had ignored it heroically, knowing that five of her comrades were watching her from their own posts.

Nimiel had hardly believed her eyes when she had seen her foster daughter in parade armour, holding an impressive shiny spear in her hand and looking all serious and dangerous. Tauriel took a surprising satisfaction from it that helped her suppress the urge to stretch her back and move her legs.

She started to observe the king. The whole evening he had looked rather beside himself. Usually he was all politeness and grace during these festivities, but tonight something seemed to trouble him. He did not speak to anyone if he could possibly avoid it and spent most of the time sitting at his table, drinking a lot of wine and obviously trying to control his facial expression that repeatedly turned into a grimace of pain whenever he stopped concentrating on it.

Legolas had noticed it as well. Tauriel saw him walk up to his father and place a hand on his arm, which made the king wince and look at his son in bewilderment as if he had never seen him before. "Ada, what is it?" she heard Legolas ask. "Nothing, I am… Do not trouble yourself, ion nin." He tried to straighten his posture but he was trembling all over and his voice was frail. "You are not well," Legolas insisted but the king interrupted him harshly, "It is nothing! Now will you please leave me!" The prince hesitated but then he obeyed and took a few steps away, still assessing his father anxiously.

Before she could even wonder, Tauriel saw Nimiel emerge from the crowd and whisper a few reassuring words to Legolas before she addressed the king in a gentle but firm voice, "Come with me, my lord. Please." She slid a hand under his arm and led him quickly to the exit without him offering much resistance. When they passed Tauriel, she saw that the king's hands were trembling terribly and his face was covered in sweat. Nimiel tried to maintain her composure but Tauriel could clearly see her alarm. The two of them left the hall as discreetly as possible and Tauriel noticed with relief that only a few people were turning their heads at the strange departure.

A moment later Legolas approached her. She looked at her comrades, who seemed to be occupied otherwise, and took the opportunity to whisper to her friend, "What was that about? What's wrong with him?" Legolas gulped and answered quietly, "It's the scar on his face. He hasn't been himself all day." Tauriel could not follow. "What scar? He doesn't have a scar on his face." Now Legolas looked genuinely surprised. "You mean you've never seen it? That giant burn mark he brought back from the War of the Last Alliance? Where a dragon burnt off half his face and probably most of the skin on his body as well?" Tauriel arched an eyebrow and assessed the prince critically. She did not voice her thought but she wondered how much wine he might have drunk. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said instead. "Yes, true, why would you?" Legolas reasoned, "He sure doesn't like other people to know. I guess he has never been seriously unsettled in your presence. Most of the time he can cover it up but sometimes, when he completely loses it or is very exhausted, it shows. It's horrible, it scared the living daylights out of me when I first saw it as a child." The memory put a shadow on his face. "They say dragon fire burns forever and its wounds never heal. I really don't know how he bears it." Tauriel listened to him in astonishment. Indeed she had not known about that.

The piercing glare of the guard standing closest to her interrupted her contemplation. She threw an apologetic look at Legolas and resumed her air of professionalism.

* * *

"Had we not agreed on a two month period between treatments? The last time you were here was three and a half months ago," Nimiel stated with as much patience in her voice as she could summon up. She had taken the king to the houses of healing, where she had politely ordered the night nurses and the two present healers not to interfere, while leading him to the treatment room. Now he was lying down, his hands clasping the edges of the treatment table, and she could see how his effort to conceal his condition slowly faded. The left side of his face, that usually looked as flawless as the rest of it, started to reveal its horrible burn marks and a milky white eye. Nimiel was preparing the ointment she had developed about two thousand five hundred years ago when the miserable remainder of the Woodland army had come back from Mordor, without their old king and with the new one half dead. Since then she had mixed it countless times and managed to make his pain at least a little more bearable.

"I was too busy to keep track of the schedule," she heard him say. His voice was more a groan of pain than anything else but it did not make Nimiel any more compassionate. They had discussed that subject over and over and it made her furious when a patient proved to be so resistant to her advice. She shook the bottle with the pain relieving poppy extract a little too energetically and almost dropped it. 'I should not have drunk that second glass of wine,' she reasoned silently and took special care while preparing the injection needle. 'Actually he does not even deserve pain medication', she thought, but then she was shocked at herself for her cruelty and continued to fill the syringe.

"Ready?" she asked the king while examining the exposed muscles of his face for the best spots to position the injections. "Whenever you are," it came back from behind gritted teeth, "I've been looking forward to this for three months." Nimiel placed the first injection in his temple, the second in his cheek muscles and the third in his chin. She could see him bite his tongue and dig his fingernails into his palm in order to not cry out in pain and she remembered that the first few times it had probably hurt her even more than him. When she was done and had put away the needle, she gave him a few minutes to collect himself.

"If you were a soldier, I would slice your throat for this," the king snarled. Nimiel took it as an indication that the poppy extract was starting to work and came back to her patient with the burn ointment. "I know", she simply replied, "Chin up!" He obeyed without opposition. It was a choreography both of them knew by heart.

While Nimiel carefully applied the sharp-smelling ointment to the lower parts of his face, she made another hopeless attempt to reason with him. "You know that prolonging the intervals will not benefit you. There is no way of getting used to it, as you are well aware." Her words were rewarded with an unintelligible grumble. "With all due respect, my lord," she continued, "you should not burden yourself with unnecessary pain." When he did not react to that either, she decided to rely on the soothing effect of the poppy extract and added, "It will not prove your strength to anyone."

The king looked up at her, frowning. "What if I need to prove it to myself?" he gave back after a while. Nimiel let out a nearly inaudible sigh of relief – she had been afraid to find him aggravated by her remark. "There are many other ways, my lord. One may be to accept help when it is needed." She had reached his cheek by now and started putting the ointment on the spots where the dragon fire had left actual holes. "You are right, as always," he replied, "But tell me, what kind of a king am I if my own flesh defeats my will?"

The king's pride that made him neglect his health was a sore spot with Nimiel. She had been trying to talk some sense into him for two millennia and now, slowly but steadily, she was coming to the point where she was tired of it. "For Eru's sake, Thranduil, save your foolish heroism for the battlefield!" she heard herself hiss, only to realise what she had just said a moment later. She pulled back her hand and bit her lip.

The king looked at her with an arched eyebrow and said nothing for what seemed an eternity. Then, to her great surprise, he started smiling. It looked rather grotesque with half his face consisting of raw flesh and sinews. "You have not addressed me by my first name in three thousand years." Nimiel wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide in it. "I apologise, my lord," she murmured and cursed herself for drinking that second glass of wine.

"When did I say I disapproved?" the king asked, "In fact, I think I should vex you more often." Nimiel glanced at him in astonishment. The poppies seemed to do an excellent job, she thought, seeing the blatant smirk on the unharmed side of his face. "That would be unwise as long as you are in this awkward position and I am within arm's length of scalpels and needles," she retaliated and started again to apply the ointment.

"Could you please relax your face?" she had to ask after a few minutes, "I never knew this treatment was so amusing. What are you smiling at, if I may inquire?" The question was only half serious and was asked for social reasons rather than medical ones. Nimiel took a mental note not to drink more than one glass of wine ever again.

The king assessed her with an investigative but friendly look. "Nothing in particular. I was only just remembering a rainy spring morning in Doriath and a young healer without a rain cloak who reprimanded me for letting my horse trample all the dandelions at the edge of the path."

Nimiel would have dropped the bowl with the ointment if she had not placed it on the treatment table a moment before. She took a while to answer but then a long-buried memory emerged from the depths of her mind and forced her to say, "Actually it was primroses and, in my defence, I needed them badly. And I still remember how mortified I was when I returned your cloak full of grass stains." An involuntary smile spread over her face.

'What, in Manwe's name, am I talking about?' she silently screamed at herself. Suddenly she was not so sure anymore if it was really the wine talking. She shook off the silliness and forced herself to look professional again.

"That was long ago," the king stated quietly, "It almost seems unreal. I hardly know those two people anymore. At least the young man from thence is a stranger to me." "So is the girl to me," Nimiel could not stop herself from saying.

There was a long silence after that. Nimiel continued to apply the ointment and the king tried his best not to move.

"What happened to them?" he asked after a while, not looking at Nimiel but gazing into the air as if he saw something that only existed in his mind. She pondered the question for a moment before suggesting pragmatically, "I suppose they simply grew up." The king let out a deep breath. "An ungracious world that forced them to do so, is it not?" Nimiel could not help but agree with him, which she desperately tried to blame on the wine and the general strangeness of the situation, while carefully avoiding to look at the king. Forcing her voice to sound confident, she replied, "There is no use in blaming the world for its course, my lord."

"True", he admitted, "So who or what shall we blame then? Maybe a medical career that was too important to be put aside?" His look was challenging and blatantly provocative this time. Nimiel felt defiance rise in her and, already cursing herself, she blurted, "Or rather a nobleman's pride wounded by the first rejection of his life?" Obviously Thranduil had not expected such an answer, as Nimiel noticed with ever so slight satisfaction. He stayed silent for a moment, but then he added, as if to conciliate, "Or simply two fathers who disliked each other."

"Whatever it was, we both found our happiness elsewhere," Nimiel pointed out in another desperate try to get out of this conversation – although she was not entirely sure she wanted it to end. Her attempt seemed to work nevertheless because the king's expression became a little more pragmatic again. "Only to lose it again, but still, you are right, we should let the past rest."

Relieved and confused, Nimiel applied the last bit of ointment to his temple. "Very well, we are done, my lord," she stated, "I would like you to stay here for a while, as always, until the ointment takes full effect." Without waiting for an answer she rushed out of the room.

* * *

Tauriel and Sidhril were sitting on the wooden floor of Tauriel's little chamber in the guard quarters, an empty carafe of Dorwinion between them and a very becoming blush on both their faces. "I don't believe it," Sidhril said and held up her glass, "Have we really emptied the whole carafe? Orome's horn, we're going to be so hung over…" She giggled. Tauriel gave her a reassuring smile. "So what? As the mortals say: We'll never be this young again. Bottoms up!" With that she raised her glass and drank the last bit of the sweet red wine.

So did Sidhril, not being aware of the fact that she had consumed about three times as much as her friend who had deliberately got her drunk out of base motives – more precisely to extract information from her. She had taken the prospect of a calm evening of chatting and catching up on the events of the last weeks as an excuse to lure Sidhril into her trap and now there was no way of escaping anymore.

"You know what I almost forgot to tell you?" Tauriel mentioned casually, "I talked to Legolas a few days ago. He asked about you and sends his regards." Sidhril assessed her friend sceptically through a veil of blurriness. "Uhm, thank you… I guess."

Tauriel judged her chances of success and resolved that the moment of truth was now or never. Like the skilled huntress that she was, she set her sight firmly on the target. "You've never told me what happened between the two of you. I thought you got along so well…" "We did, he's a really nice fellow," Sidhril blurted and Tauriel could only just suppress the triumphant smile that wanted to spread over her face. The arrow had been shot, now it only needed to hit the mark.

"So, why did you stop seeing each other so abruptly?" she probed. Sidhril's expression turned stern – it looked ridiculous because all her movements, including those of her facial muscles, were slowed down by the alcohol. "I don't know if I should tell you," she reasoned.

The arrow had obviously gone astray but the prey was still within reach. "Come on, it has been a long time. Whatever it was, it's all over and done with by now. You can tell me." A good hunter never gave up right after the first missed shot.

Sidhril seemed to ponder her options. It took excruciatingly long and Tauriel cursed her impatience – an inconvenient quality for any hunter, as she was well aware. Finally Sidhril came to a decision. "Fine, I'll tell you, but if you say anything to him…" "You'll cut off my fingers one by one with a blunt blade and feed them to the spiders, I know. Don't worry, I'll be as silent as a dwarven grave. So what happened?" She leaned forward in excitement but forced herself to relax.

"Well, we went to the room with the old weapons," Sidhril began, "he told me the stories to go along with all of them and then he tried to kiss me."

Tauriel gulped. "Oh. Uhm, tried? Don't tell me you punched him!"

"Of course not!" She shook her head emphatically, almost losing her balance, "It was him who stopped right in the middle of everything and then he apologised a thousand times. When I asked him what was wrong, he admitted that he liked me a lot and thought I was lovely and charming and everything, but the main reason for his attention to me was him being so upset… about you." Sidhril pointed her finger at her friend.

Tauriel frowned and arched an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes, and the way you let Fiondir treat you. He was really troubled. I wanted to be mad at him but I simply couldn't. The poor soul! He begged me not to tell you because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by revealing how he felt about you. After being friends for so long, you know… Tauriel?"

Despite her blurry vision and her slowed senses Sidhril noticed that her friend looked agitated. "What's wrong?" she asked her, trying to get up but failing miserably. "Excuse me, I… It's the wine, I need some fresh air" was the last thing she heard from Tauriel before she saw her rise and walk out of the room. 'I'll go after her later,' Sidhril thought, leaning back against the wall and drifting off into a pleasant wine-induced dream.


	10. Black Butterflies

_Hi again! I should be writing stuff for university but instead I'm sitting here writing fanfic…__Despite having a weird sort of affection for the characters in my stories, this time, in all honesty, I want to slap Tauriel in the face. Let's see if you feel the same :) As always, constructive criticism and suggestions are welcome._

* * *

"Are you serious?" Tauriel's piercing green eyes and her voice, as sharp as a Gondolin-forged blade, literally made her comrade shrink. For a Silvan Etheldir was a veritable giant but the concentrated anger of the little elleth-shaped fire-drake in front of him truly seemed to intimidate him. "I-I'm sorry, I completely forgot about my other appointment when I volunteered for the king's escort," he stuttered while his face slowly turned crimson, "I know it's last-minute, but is there any chance you could help me out?" His guilty look almost made Tauriel laugh but she maintained her air of annoyance for a more convincing effect. "I just returned from the border!" she groaned, "We crept through the coppice in this dreadful heat for two days before we finally got our hands on that troll!" "Please, Tauriel" he insisted, "The captain is going to butcher me…"

Tauriel arched an eyebrow. In fact she had already decided to do him the favour but torturing her comrade just a little bit longer than necessary felt too good to miss out on that opportunity. She savoured the moment with one last look at his guilty frown before she finally let out a deep breath and hissed, "Fine, I'll take your place!" His face lightened up with relief. "Thank you so much, I can't tell you how…" "Yes, I get it, alright?" she interrupted him, grinning and pointing her finger at him, "You owe me one!" With that she turned around and made her way back to the armoury, where she had just come from, to get her bow and quiver.

The mission she had so unexpectedly volunteered for was to accompany the king on a visit to one of the settlements near the northern border. She did not know what business he had to attend there but it was not necessary for her to know the details.

Half an hour later Tauriel mounted her horse – more precisely it was just one of the many horses in the palace stables that belonged to the Woodland guard. Most soldiers, apart from the captain and the four lieutenants, did not have their personal mounts. Tauriel was still not too accustomed to horseback riding because she had only started to do it on a regular basis when she had joined the special operations unit, but like every Elda she had a natural way of communicating with all sorts of animals, so she felt quite safe and comfortable on the dapple-grey's broad back.

Her fellow guard was ready to start, and so was the king's secretary who had brought an impressive arsenal of paper, parchment rolls and quills.

The only one they were waiting for was the monarch himself. His horse was already saddled, held by a stable boy and pawing impatiently. 'Thank Eru it's not the elk,' Tauriel thought. She found the king's rather eccentric choice of mount both impractical and ridiculous, but Thranduil's extravagancies were not hers to judge.

Finally she saw the king emerge from the entrance of the royal quarters, buttoning his light travelling coat and gesturing while he was speaking to someone who came out behind him. 'Please don't let him come with us,' Tauriel sent a silent prayer to the Valar. She threw a look at Legolas, who was listening carefully to his father's instructions, then nodded, bid him goodbye with a slight bow and went back inside, before the king walked over to the waiting group, mounted his horse and gave the signal to start.

Urging her horse into an easy trot at the end of the small company, Tauriel sighed with relief. Riding all the way to the border and back with Legolas – in the presence of his father – would have been about as pleasant as running the gauntlet.

Since she had tricked Sidhril into telling her the truth about their failed rendezvous, Tauriel's thoughts about her best and oldest friend were in an unprecedented uproar. At first she had tried not to take Sidhril's account too seriously – after all five years had passed since the incident with the ancient swords – but gradually it had dawned on her that Legolas feeling more for her than friendship was indeed a plausible explanation for lots of things that had happened between them.

Truth be told, it scared her. It scared her more than any spider or goblin or warg she had faced down in her entire life. Legolas had been her friend, her confidant, her partner in crime for almost as long as she could remember. Seeing their friendship change felt like losing a safe haven that had always been there to give her strength.

Tauriel had not talked to Legolas about the subject because she could not think of any way to bring it up that would not worsen the situation. He obviously thought the same, as he had never made any attempt to actually tell her how he felt, knowing that it would most likely not be well-received. It was probably for the best, Tauriel reasoned, because a rejection would do more harm than the eventual realisation that there were better options for him.

At that, Tauriel frowned. An uncomfortable feeling rose in her. It was the same she had felt when Sidhril had told her about Legolas inviting her to see the old weapons. And when that excruciatingly pretty musician had smiled at him so suggestively all evening during the last winter solstice feast. And whenever the king made one of his obvious attempts to interest his son in an eligible young lady at court. Tauriel tried to push the feeling away, like the last time it had crept into her mind like an unwelcome intruder. In fact, it was this little stinging sensation in a dark, hidden corner of her consciousness that scared her most of all.

She had never been in love, nor did she think it was a good idea. Her relationship with Fiondir, the only time she had ever come anywhere near romance, had begun for curiosity, continued for amusement and ended so undramatically that she was absolutely sure about not having been in love with him. The idea of opening up her soul to someone seemed far stranger to Tauriel than allowing them to touch her body. She did not like the thought of letting someone know that they could hurt her.

Legolas, on the other hand, was serious about these things, or at least that was what she thought. Being the prince, apart from being well-mannered and reasonably attractive, he certainly had enough possibilities for amorous encounters but he did not seem to be too interested in them. Tauriel even thought him capable of believing in the notion of "the one true love" – something that belonged to the realm of poetry and ancient tales, as far as she was concerned.

Even if she fell in love one day, as unlikely as it seemed to her, she knew herself well enough to suspect that she might get tired of it sooner or later and eventually leave the battlefield after cruelly massacring an innocent heart. That heart could not, under any circumstances, be Legolas'. She would rather die a slow and agonising death than deliberately hurt him.

Besides, what did he want with her anyway? He was a prince, whereas she was an orphan from a common forest settlement, a soldier with none of the qualities required of a lady. So she tried to convince herself that at some point he would certainly resolve to abandon his inclination to her.

The dapple-grey panted and shook his mane, almost as if he had heard her contemplations and disapproved. The sudden movement woke Tauriel from her thoughts. "Be quiet! What do you know?" she whispered and padded his neck.

* * *

The visit at the border settlement had been short and efficient. The king had his routine because he made this sort of journeys on a regular basis. The number of villages outside the immediate radius of the palace was steadily decreasing due to the growing threat of spiders and other foul creatures, but there were still a lot of them, distributed all over the realm, especially in the northern parts. Thranduil was not too fond of the idea of his people living so far away from the protective walls of the palace but he did not want to force them to leave their homes. So he had taken to visiting every settlement himself at least once a year – which was quite a busy schedule given their number – apart from sending his officials and soldiers there whenever the villagers had to be informed about important news or needed any kind of help.

This time he had found nothing to worry about, besides the apparent nervousness of the farmers and hunters at the presence of the noble guest, which Thranduil was used to and did not mind, and so the visit was a short one. Still the secretary had managed to fill several of his pages.

As the small company was riding in single file along the narrow forest path again, Tauriel, still at the end of the group, was the first to notice the black butterflies fluttering above them. The Woodelves said that these creatures were heralds of death. Tauriel did not believe in superstition but she knew that there was some truth to the macabre saying. Those butterflies were not like their harmless, colourful brothers that subsisted on the nectar of flowers – no, those foul creatures from Dol Guldur fed on nothing but blood. Wherever they were, blood was not far. Some minutes later Tauriel heard rustling in the bushes behind their company. It seemed to follow them, so she advised her fellow soldier to be vigilant.

The attack came unexpectedly nevertheless. Five orcs broke through the bushes with infernal roaring and drawn blades. The first thing that happened was that the secretary's horse reared up and fled along the path, the poor rider on its back being unable to appease it and clinging desperately to the saddle. In the meantime more orcs emerged from the shadows and three of them decided to go after the secretary whose only weapons were his quills and who was about as skilled at fighting as he was at horse riding. Tauriel's comrade exchanged a look with the king, then he kicked his horse into a gallop and followed the unlucky fellow.

Tauriel was too busy slicing and stabbing about to realise that she had ended up alone with the king, being solely responsible for his protection. Luckily he seemed very capable of defending himself, as she noticed from the corner of her eyes. He was wielding his sword with extraordinary precision, every movement was as flawless as it was effective, and soon a pile of dead orcs was accumulating at his horse's feet.

Tauriel herself had just parried an attack intended to throw her off her horse by thrusting one of her daggers into a particularly warty orc's eyehole – what worked with spiders could not be wrong with orcs. The creature had managed to cut through her trousers and she could feel blood drenching the fabric, but there was no time to worry about it because the next moment she saw a jagged blade fly towards her face. She quickly bent sideward to avoid it, slicing another orc's throat in the process. She noticed with relief that no more attackers seemed to emerge from the forest, leaving them to deal with no more than four remaining ones.

The moment she saw the archer on the tree was the moment his arrow was released. "Down!" she shouted but it was too late for the king to react. Fortunately, due to a baulk of his horse, the arrow missed his chest and only pierced his upper arm, causing him to drop his sword. Another orc attempted to attack him with an axe but he produced a dagger from his saddle bag and threw it, splitting the orc's forehead in two accurate halves.

Tauriel marvelled at the result for a good moment before she heard the king's voice. "Am I to expect any help from you, soldier?" he snarled while slaying another enemy with a sword – or whatever it was – that he had pulled out of the orc pile on the ground. Tauriel shook off the astonishment and immediately remembered the archer who was just aiming at the king for the second time. She drew her bow, but it was too late to bring him down as the arrow was already flying.

Within the split of a second the world around her froze and the familiar coldness spread in her mind. She saw the trajectory of the arrow like a line drawn in the air, shifted her bow ever so slightly and shot. Her arrow hit the one of the orc about three feet in front of the king. She aimed again and a moment later the archer fell off the tree.

In the meantime the king eliminated the two remaining orcs and dropped the suspiciously black blade with a disgusted look on his face before wiping his hand on his trousers. "My lord," Tauriel said and rode over to him, "your arm…" He gave her a frown and looked down on the wound, grimacing.

Before Tauriel could say anything else, he descended from his horse, picked up his sword, examined the dead orcs - now covered by greedy butterflies - and remounted. Without so much of another word he started in direction of the palace, leaving a clueless and guilt-ridden Tauriel to follow him in silence.

* * *

The captain looked at Tauriel with an expression that was even grimmer than usually. She bit her lip and forced herself to keep a straight posture. "Why were you on this mission anyway?" he asked, glaring at her, "Was not Etheldir supposed to go?" Tauriel nodded slowly. "He asked me to replace him. He had an… accident. Nothing dramatic," she lied, praying to the Valar that the captain would not investigate the matter any further. Etheldir would have to do her a really big favour in order to make up for this. As for her other comrade and the poor secretary, both of them had returned safely, though a lot of the writing equipment had fallen victim to the bloodthirsty – or in this case rather ink-thirsty – orcs.

"I am sure you are aware of the reputation your negligence will cause your unit," the captain continued. Tauriel gulped. "Yes, captain." "You nearly got the king killed," Rochanar deemed it necessary to point out. "Yes, captain," she repeated, wondering if her face could still get any hotter.

The captain turned around and took a few steps away from her. 'I hope he's not taking a run-up to go for my throat,' she thought. But instead he turned back to face her and said, "Luckily for you, His Majesty does not seem to mind. In fact he specifically requested you to be part of his escort on his upcoming journey to Lothlórien."

Tauriel was not sure she had heard him right. She looked at him, trying to detect any signs of sarcasm. But the only thing she could see was a benevolent yet somewhat reluctant smirk spreading over his face. "I knew I was right to prom-… transfer you," he grumbled, "Now go and get that leg bandaged."

* * *

Lothlórien – Tauriel still could not believe she was really there. She had dreamt of travelling outside the Woodland Realm since the first time she had read wondrous stories about foreign lands as a child. The Golden Wood was even more beautiful than she had imagined. The majestic mallorn trees were healthy and full of life, no foul creatures crept in the shadows and the sunlight actually reached the ground in most places. The elven city named Caras Galadhon was built entirely on the strong, ancient trees and it had taken Tauriel a while to get used to spending most of the day so far above the ground instead of beneath it.

Within the two weeks that had already passed since their arrival, she had found lots of opportunities to explore the beautiful place and its surroundings. The king did not require her or her comrades' service most of the time, as he was busy speaking to Lord Celeborn, a relative of his, about all sorts of diplomatic matters – which, in fact, tended to turn into rather social conversations as soon as a glass of wine was involved. Thranduil was fond of his kinsman, even though he had never cared too much for Lady Galadriel, which was probably just as much due to her Noldorin descent as to her habit of answering his thoughts before he voiced them. Tauriel had caught a short glance at the rulers of Lothlórien at their arrival and came across them occasionally while roaming the city, but of course she had never spoken to them.

Instead, being billeted in the guard's quarters, she and her comrades had made the acquaintance of some Galadhrim soldiers who proved to be pleasant fellows after a day or two of getting used to the guests. Three brothers called Haldir, Rumil and Orophin had taken Tauriel along on their forest patrol one day and she had been waiting for dangerous creatures to attack them the whole time. But nothing had happened. Nothing at all. At some point she had started pondering the question which one was worse, spiders and orcs or complete and utter boredom. The company had been pleasant though and the Galadhrim guards had told her lots of stories about Lothlórien while in turn asking her about her life in the Woodland Realm. Tauriel's own comrades preferred to stay among themselves and she could not possibly understand their reasons for deliberately passing on such an amazing opportunity to learn about another culture.

One who shared her enthusiasm was Legolas who had accompanied his father on the journey. For Tauriel, still being affected by the revelations of a few weeks before, it had been a challenge to spend so much time in such close proximity to him during the journey without making her confusion too obvious. But somehow, since their arrival in the Golden Wood, she felt much more at ease around her old friend again. Maybe it was the magical atmosphere of the forest that made her feel so relaxed, she reasoned, or maybe the mere fact of being far away from their daily routine at the Woodland palace. Whatever it was, Tauriel was happy to be so comfortable around him again and enjoyed every minute they could spend together.

When Legolas' presence was not required by his father or the Lord and Lady, he often wandered off with her to explore all the wonders that were not as new to him as he liked to pretend. "I bet you've seen this pavilion a hundred times!" "Yes, but isn't it nice to have someone to share your surprise with?" That was a conversation typical of them during their little expeditions.

One evening Tauriel was sitting on the edge of an ample platform in one of the bigger mallorn trees, letting her legs dangle and listening to the distant song that waved over to her from another tree. She was contemplating the stars she could see through a very convenient gap in the leave canopy. There was no one else on the platform because it was one of the talans mainly used for business-related activities. During the day many craftsmen came to work there but at night it was deserted. Except for Tauriel, who had taken the opportunity to occupy this quiet spot for a moment of solitude.

It was violently interrupted when she heard light footsteps approach. Before she could even turn, she felt hands on her shoulders that gave her a little push – causing her heart to skip a beat – only to pull her back right after she lost her balance.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed and turned around. She knew it was Legolas; who else would think an attempted murder qualified as a prank? He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," she grumbled, already failing to suppress her grin.

"Shall we go climb some trees?" he asked and held out a hand. It was an inside joke they had created after only a few days in Lothlórien. This time Tauriel accepted the hand offered to help her up.

"Shouldn't you be with your father?" she inquired while walking down the circular stairs that wound around the tree trunk. Legolas let out a deep breath of pretended desperation. "Don't even ask about my father, meldis nin. He and Lord Celeborn are drinking wine and revelling in the good old times when they could actually count the millennia they've been living for on one hand." Tauriel gave him a severe look and a light but emphatic pad on his arm. "Don't be so mean! You should be glad that your father is so relaxed and cheerful. I remember how grumpy he was that day I went to the forest with him…" "He took a bloody arrow to his shoulder!" Legolas interrupted her, not even trying to hold back his laugh, which seemed more than just a bit disrespectful to her, "I want to see you in that situation and still being all serenity and merriment."

They had reached the ground and made their way to the path leading out of the city. After a few turns the lanterns became scarcer and the echo of the songs was barely heard anymore. In the gloomy light they could hardly see their hands in front of their faces, so both of them gave a little jump when a tall white figure appeared right in front of them.

"Legolas – what a pleasant surprise," the Lady of the Golden Wood greeted the prince. "My lady," Legolas replied and both of them bowed to her. Tauriel tried to take a closer look at her without appearing too insolent. In the dark of the evening, she had the impression that Galadriel was surrounded by a glimmer of white light. She was taller than most Eldar Tauriel had ever met and her hair did indeed resemble a stream of liquid gold, just as the tales described it.

The lady's eyes came to rest upon Tauriel who felt like the friendly but investigative gaze did not just contemplate her outer shape but pierce right into her soul. It was terrifying and soothing at the same time. "And who is this?" Galadriel asked Legolas while her eyes kept resting on Tauriel. The prince explained, "Forgive me my negligence, my lady, and allow me to introduce Tauriel, a soldier with the Woodland guard and a very dear friend of mine." Tauriel blushed at the thought of having just been formally introduced to a person she had learned about in history class. The lady gave her a nearly invisible, enigmatic smile. "I see," she replied, looking at Legolas and then back at Tauriel, "Have a pleasant walk then. But do not venture too far." With that she gave them a nod and started walking in direction of the talans.

Tauriel had to shake her head and blink several times to get her mind to think straight again. She looked at Legolas who seemed slightly off track as well but apparently bore it more easily than she did. He read her thought from her face and mumbled, "You get used to it eventually." Tauriel just nodded, trying to get the echo of the lady's words and the image of that puzzling smile out of her head.

They walked in silence for a while, breathing in the sweet scent of the forest, contemplating their own thoughts. After some time – Tauriel did not know how long they had been wandering – they came to the bank of the river. The water was calm and black, reflecting the bright starlight. "Look," Tauriel whispered and pointed to the opposite bank. Hundreds of tiny green lights were flickering a few feet above the water surface. Tauriel remembered the last time she had seen a swarm of fireflies during their summer dance above a river. Legolas smiled; she could not see it but infer from his tone of voice. "No spiders this time," was his somewhat obvious but appropriate contribution.

Tauriel did not take her eyes off the fireflies when she felt Legolas' hand reach for hers. Her mind kept arguing against it but she did not listen to its numerous and undoubtedly sensible objections. Instead she leaned against his shoulder, looked up at him as soon as she felt his hand under her chin and offered no resistance whatsoever when he placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. His lips were soft and warm and the light touch of his skin made her ignore the guilt that was boiling up inside her. 'What am I doing?' she screamed at herself silently while still allowing her lips to part and the kiss to deepen. It felt right and wrong at the same time; in fact, as right as nothing had ever felt before and so wrong that it made her stomach cramp in fear of what might happen as soon as this unreal moment would end.

With an effort of will stronger than she had thought she could manage she gently pulled away and took a deep breath. Not daring to look into Legolas's face, she whispered, "Let's not be silly. This would never work." She wondered why hearing these words come out of her mouth hurt worse than any spider bite. Legolas let go of her hand, reluctant but obviously not too surprised. Tauriel threw a last look at the dancing fireflies, then she slowly started walking back the way they had come from.


	11. Pink Elephants

_Hi there! Yes, I'm still alive, in case you were wondering. This update took ages, I know, but your patience will be rewarded with a really long chapter :)_

* * *

For the prince of the Woodland Realm the rainy summer's day he would later remember as the day of the broken things could not have begun more adequately: He awoke at the infernal clanking of breaking dishes, followed by loud swearing and an angry "Shhh!". Once again he regretted the circumstance that his bedchamber was situated directly next to the royal quarters' dining room and that the wall separating them seemed to be as thin as a piece of parchment. He had intended to change rooms for years but somehow he had always postponed his plan because most of the time he had no reason to complain. But every now and then a servant proved to be particularly clumsy and reminded him of it.

Legolas groaned and buried his face in the pillow. His head felt like a dwarven mine where hundreds of tiny hammers and pickaxes were at work. He had stayed up late the night before to finish a pile of letters concerning the realm's trade agreements with the cities of Men in the East. He had completely forgotten that the messenger was due to leave the following morning, until his father had made a casual remark about it over dinner. So the prince had spent most of the night in the study, cursing himself for his recent absentmindedness, in order to make sure the realm's crop and, not to forget, wine supplies would be properly restocked.

Although his head was taking cruel revenge for the insufficient amount of rest, Legolas resolved that he had to get up. There was no excuse for laziness, especially for a royal, because the delicate state of equilibrium that kept the kingdom functioning did not maintain itself. There was a basket full of petition letters waiting to be looked through and sorted by importance before his father would deal with the most urgent and sensible ones, leaving the rest of them to Legolas. They worked together quite efficiently and the prince had grown accustomed to the responsibilities he bore, as limited as they might be. However, he still preferred all sorts of duties related to the realm's defence and had gradually replaced the king as the main administrator of the guard. The captain trusted his judgement and he had proven to be extraordinarily talented in the strategic as well as the practical part of military operations.

Nonetheless the day ahead of him would most likely be dedicated to more peaceful and monotonous activities. Legolas rose from his bed, acknowledged the pounding pain in his right temple with annoyed resignation and concluded that this day would probably not be any better than the previous ten had been.

While getting ready, he could not stop his mind from wandering back to the place where it ended up whenever he did not keep it occupied: the bank of the river Celebrant during the penultimate evening of their visit in Lothlórien. 'Let's not be silly. This would never work.' The words Tauriel had whispered to his collar bone before walking away and leaving him to his helpless confusion still echoed in his head in an infinite loop. If he was honest, he would have preferred her to yell at him or even slap him for violating her privacy – that way there would have been no doubt about her attitude towards his advance. But this? The way she had reciprocated his kiss for what had felt like a small eternity, the incredibly miserable tone of her voice while speaking those confounded words, and of course the red and swollen eyes she had failed to hide from him when he had finally gone after her – none of this made sense to him.

It was true, Legolas had been in love with Tauriel for a long time. It had started gradually after his return from his long journey. Knowing that all she felt for him was friendship and seeing her with that ineffably obnoxious corporal should have brought him back down to earth. The Valar knew he had struggled hard to take his mind off Tauriel, but unfortunately that was not how love worked. So he had done what he thought a good friend should do: He had watched over her, laughed with her, fought alongside her and been there for her, just like it had always been, still hoping he would eventually grow out of his futile feelings.

But then things had changed. Tauriel had changed. It was nothing big or remarkable, just little moments, looks, gestures and words, but suddenly Legolas had felt that he might not be fighting a completely lost cause. So he had taken his chances that night at the river bank, figuring that even a rejection could not be worse than the gnawing insecurity.

Well, so much for his impeccable judgement! The emotional turmoil he had been going through for the last ten days was about twenty times worse. He had confronted Tauriel, but all she had given him was a desperate yet not good enough attempt to make him believe that she felt nothing but friendship for him. One good thing about Tauriel was the fact that it had always been ridiculously easy to read her face. However, seeing her lie to him had not exactly lessened his confusion. She had apologised for allowing the kiss in the first place and her distress while doing so had been more than sincere. Legolas had no trouble believing that she felt bad for him, which made him feel even worse.

After their return to the Woodland palace the awkward silence had changed into an even more awkward habit of forced small talk about meaningless banalities. The tension between them was practically tangible and Legolas admired himself almost as much as Tauriel for showing enough self-control to behave more or less civilly. He knew that he needed to confront her again eventually but until now he had not found the strength.

Very slowly but unmistakably his confusion was turning into a small volcano of bottled-up anger that would probably not take much longer to erupt. Most of all he was angry with himself for being so anxious and hesitant. His second target were the Valar, or the world, or just the general circumstances that made things so preposterously complicated. And last but not least, although he did not want to, he was starting to get angry – or, to put it bluntly, utterly furious – at Tauriel. How dare she pretend that she could get away with kissing him and then walking out on him without so much of an explanation! How dare she talk to him casually about the weather and the latest spider incidents while another subject was standing between them like a giant pink mumak in the room!

Legolas did not notice how violently he was treating the strand of hair he was just braiding until he accidentally plucked out a bit of it. The little sting managed to clear his thoughts. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

* * *

"Good morning, your highness," Legolas was greeted by Galion when he entered the study. He nodded in return and acknowledged the presence of another servant who was dusting the bookshelves with a short look. The butler poured a cup of peppermint tea and set it on the desk. He knew the prince was not a morning person and usually did not bother taking a proper breakfast, so he had made it a habit to serve him his favourite tea and some fruit without being asked. "Thank you," Legolas replied and sat down, sighing at the sight of all the petition letters.

While Galion left the study, he emptied the basket on the desk, unfolded the first letter and frowned at the scrawly handwriting and the four spelling errors he detected in the first line alone. 'Oh please, Tengwar really is a grind', he heard a familiar voice say in his head. A smirk appeared on his face, but as soon as he realised who that infallibly accurate quote belonged to, it vanished immediately. He skimmed the letter, scribbled an annotation on the top margin and tossed it back into the basket, deeming it unworthy of his father's attention.

While going through the next ones, he felt the pounding in his temple getting more and more uncomfortable. Not even the refreshing smell of the peppermint tea could soothe it. He dropped his head into his hand and let out a deep breath. Suddenly the sound of something heavy bursting on the stone floor made him wince and he felt his fingers clench, breaking the delicate quill he was holding. He looked up and saw that the servant had just dropped a horse-shaped marble bookend and was hectically collecting the pieces from the floor.

"Mind what you're doing!" he snapped and the girl's face turned crimson as she mumbled, "I'm sorry, your highness." A moment later Legolas regretted his sharp words. "No, it's fine, I did not mean to be so harsh," he said apologetically, "Just clean this up and leave me, will you?" The girl bowed her head, put the pieces of the marble horse into the pockets of her apron and scurried out of the room.

Legolas wondered at himself. Usually it was him who reprimanded his father for taking out his frustration on the servants. He could not let his private problems affect the way he treated other people, it was unjust and unprofessional. He leaned back in his chair and breathed deeply, then he took another quill from the top drawer and continued his tiresome labour.

* * *

"Ion nin, are you listening to me?" the king asked and threw a sharp look at his son who was standing at the plotting table, holding a tiny green figure that represented a unit of the forest guard. Legolas put it down and replied quickly, "Yes, father, of course I am. I agree with you, the watch at the southern border should be reinforced."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and assessed him critically from across the study. "We resolved on that ten minutes ago," he pointed out and Legolas bit his lip awkwardly while the king repeated, "I was asking you about your progress with the recruits." The prince could have sworn that he had not heard his father mention anything of the kind. "Well, they are learning quickly," he improvised, desperately trying to remember what he had actually been doing with the three aspiring soldiers he had recently started to train in sword fighting whenever he found the time.

The king saw right through the diversionary manoeuvre. "Legolas, what is the matter with you?" he asked and took a few steps towards his son, "You seem rather… distracted. You have not been yourself since we returned from Lothlórien." 'Great, if even he has noticed, then I must really be a glorious mess,' Legolas stated to himself. "It is nothing, father," he tried to reassure Thranduil, "I have not rested well, but I promise you to pull myself together." He straightened his posture as if to prove it.

"That is not what I am asking," the king said softly with far too much fatherly concern in his voice. Legolas appreciated the gesture but he did not feel inclined to talk to Thranduil about the subject that distressed him. Discussing matters of such intimate nature generally made him uncomfortable, especially since the king made at least one attempt a year to marry him off to what he considered eligible young ladies, and Legolas was running out of polite excuses.

Fortunately Thranduil came up with his own theory of why his son was acting so strangely: "Did Lady Galadriel meddle with your mind?" he asked, trying to find evidence for his suspicion in Legolas' face, "She tends to do that. It is very impolite, if you ask my opinion, but she has been that way since the Second Age. Not a very endearing trait, I assure you." Thranduil shook his head in disapproval. "So, if she made you uneasy, you can tell me. I specifically asked her to stay out of your head…"

Legolas made an effort not to roll his eyes. "Father, Lady Galadriel did not do anything to me. As much as you may dislike her, I am still on rather good terms with her." The king nodded shortly. "I see. So much the better." He cleared his throat and resumed his investigation.

"I worry about you, ion nin." The king's hand on his shoulder made Legolas slightly nervous. "Really, there is no need," he tried once more, "I am perfectly able to sort out the matter on my own." Thranduil's face now reflected equal parts of interest and triumph. "So there is a matter." It was not a question.

Legolas bit his tongue in regret. He hated Thranduil's occasional moods of solicitude. They did not fit him, at least not since Legolas had outgrown toy animals and children's books. He loved his father dearly but he preferred him to stay at a healthy distance from his innermost feelings. Therefore the next thing Thranduil said almost made Legolas choke on his own breath. "I have not seen you with your friend lately."

"Which one are you referring to?" the prince asked innocently, secretly trying not to implode. Thranduil leaned against the plotting table and replied casually, "Tauriel. And I have to admit I am almost relieved." "What?" For a moment Legolas completely forgot who he was speaking to. "I mean, beg your pardon?" The king graciously overlooked his son's slip of tongue and explained, "When you were younger, there were no objections whatsoever against your friendship. But as you are not an elfling anymore, your closeness to her could – possibly – raise certain undesirable suspicions."

Legolas was struggling to process what he had just heard, presumably looking rather dumb while doing so, therefore the king continued, "She undoubtedly has a splendid career ahead of her, assuming that she survives her own recklessness long enough, but she is still nothing but a soldier. And a rather impetuous one with, let us say, occasional outbursts of inappropriateness. All in all, not an ideal companion for a prince, would you not agree? We do not want people to get the wrong impression, do we?" His tone was still casual with a hint of irony, but Legolas sensed that this was a very serious conversation. Apparently he had drastically underestimated his father's insight into his inner life.

He gulped and replied hesitantly, "People always talk, father…" "Indeed they do, but I do not wish my son to be the subject of any nonsensical gossip." This time it was an unveiled warning and Legolas had no trouble grasping its meaning. To his own surprise he felt defiance rise in him. Thranduil might wear a crown, but Legolas did not approve of him trying to interfere with his feelings. He held his tongue for the moment, although he sensed that a serious potential for one of their rare father-son conflicts was just about to emerge.

* * *

The training yard was a little too crowded for Legolas' taste but that afternoon's sword fighting lesson for his three recruits had been scheduled days ago, so there was no way of avoiding the uncomfortable noise level and the shortage of space. The prince had just explained the parrying techniques they were going to practise and all he wanted to do now was sit down in a quiet corner, try to ignore his persisting headache and wrap his mind around what his father had told but not told him earlier that day. But as there were three recruits, he needed to step in as a training partner.

As soon as he had finished his explanation, two of the young soldiers had immediately paired up, leaving the third one, who always tended to be a little slow, with Legolas. The prince knew exactly that none of them wanted to train with him because, for one thing, they were terrified of accidently hitting him. For another, they did not fancy being hit by him either since they had seen his blades in action for the first time. So usually he ended up with Tavron, the boy who always needed one more explanation and two more tries than the others. It was for the best though, because Legolas felt somewhat protective of him and did not want him to get beaten up by his comrades more often than necessary.

"So, when I attack you like this," Legolas explained and demonstrated his intention, "you turn slightly – not that much – block out my left arm and… No, well, apparently then you die a painful death." He was unable to hold back that sarcastic comment at the sight of Tavron's clumsy attempt to parry the attack. Of course he immediately felt sorry for it and forced an encouraging smile. "Let's try again!" The recruit did his very best and after a few more hypothetical deaths he seemed to grasp the basic concept. Under normal circumstances Legolas would have been delighted at the pride reflected on the recruit's face, but his headache and the general bad mood he was in kept him from enjoying the small success. He hated himself for being so grumpy but there was nothing to be done about it.

His recent progress seemed to make Tavron a little cocky; the next time Legolas attacked him, he parried the stroke and tried to hit the prince in return. Legolas, whose mind had wandered off to faraway places, was caught by surprise and made the mistake to let his battle-tested reflexes take over. He blocked the attack, disarmed poor Tavron with two precise movements and startled him so much that he actually stumbled over backwards. In an attempt to stop his fall he put out his hands – and a moment later an unmistakable noise left no doubt that he had just broken his wrist. All this happened within seconds, so Legolas was utterly shocked when his mind finally decided to join him again.

Tavron got up slowly, looking down on his hand in disbelief and pain. He stuttered something incoherent while the other two recruits – as well as far too many soldiers around them – turned their heads curiously. Legolas felt his cheeks flush red. Had he really just caused a recruit to break his wrist by a simple parrying manoeuvre?

He shook off the astonishment and helped Tavron up. "I'm so sorry," he managed to say, knowing that it would not help the poor boy at all. "You two," he instructed the recruits, "keep going and try not to behead each other." They nodded, obviously struggling not to look too bewildered. "And we're going to the houses of healing," he informed Tavron who did not seem to understand but followed the prince without resistance.

* * *

Legolas had sunk into the uncomfortable wooden chair in the waiting room several minutes ago and since then he had not bothered to move one muscle. A healer had taken the unfortunate recruit off his hands, leaving the prince to his embarrassment. He was undoubtedly the worst instructor the Woodland guard had ever seen. Accidents happened, of course, but this one had solely been caused by his own absentmindedness. He wanted to slap himself – but the headache was bad enough as it was. He dropped his head into his hands and concentrated on the dull throbbing in his temple.

"May I interest you in some willow bark extract?" The friendly voice made him look up. "My lady," he greeted Nimiel and rose – a little too quickly, as his head reminded him promptly. The healer assessed him with a well-trained look and decided, "Willow bark extract it is. Come along!"

She left him no chance to answer, so he just followed her to a small room with lots of high shelves full of bottles and boxes of all possible shapes and sizes. She pulled a stool out of a corner and climbed it in order to reach one of the higher shelves. "Hold this," she commanded and handed him a green bottle filled with an indefinable liquid before climbing back down. Legolas eyed the substance suspiciously.

"I heard you broke some poor boy's arm?" Nimiel remarked and took the bottle out of Legolas' hands. "His wrist!" the prince begged to differ, "And I did not break it, he fell! How was I supposed to know that he would be so easily startled?" Nimiel arched her eyebrows and threw him a critical look. "Beg your pardon, your highness, I did not mean to offend you." The ironic apology made Legolas realise how harshly he had spoken. "I'm sorry," he gave back and sat down on the stool as Nimiel signalled him.

She reached into a box on another shelf and took out a tiny cup which she filled to the brim with the strange liquid. "Here's to you!" she said and handed him the unsavoury beverage. Legolas examined it sceptically but then he resolved that he had nothing to lose and emptied it in one determined gulp. It tasted like fermented grass; not that he had ever experienced that flavour, he just assumed.

Nimiel took the little cup from him and put it into the pocket of her apron. Then she opened another one of the countless bottles from the shelves – she never needed to read their labels to find what she was looking for – and drenched a small piece of linen from a huge basket on the floor in the oily liquid. The fresh smell of lemon balm filled the air.

She gave him the piece of linen to hold under his nose. Legolas breathed in the pleasant scent and was surprised at its prompt vitalising effect. Nimiel stepped behind him and started to massage his temples very gently. The healer's warm fingertips literally seemed to absorb the pain. Legolas felt relieved and relaxed after having carried around that headache for the whole day.

"So, what is it you are so upset about?" Nimiel asked almost casually while her fingers were tracing small circles on Legolas' temples. He immediately awoke from the pleasant trance he had been in for a few moments. "I'm not…" he started, already knowing that denial never worked with Nimiel. "Legolas, I have known you since your very first breath of air," she replied without interrupting the massage but applying a little more force than before, "If you wish to deceive me, you will have to make a bigger effort. So, what did Tauriel do, if you do not mind me preying?"

Legolas almost dropped the scented piece of linen. This elleth was almost as good at reading minds as Lady Galadriel, although not half as intimidating. How, in Manwe's name, did his father get along with her so well?

"Why do you assume it was Tauriel who did something to me?" he asked out of mere curiosity. Nimiel smiled; he could not see it but the tone of her voice revealed it. "Because I have had a lot of practice in recognising guilt on my daughter's face. Since your return from Lothlórien she has carried around the same sour frown as you and during this whole week she has not once mentioned your name." Legolas nodded. "In fact, it was me who did something very inconsiderate. I would rather not discuss the details, if you please." He took another sniff of lemon balm, just to have something to do.

"Of course, it is none of my business," Nimiel conceded, extending the circles her fingers were drawing to his forehead, "But maybe you should not take all the blame upon yourself." Legolas could not follow. Before he could even say 'Beg your pardon', Nimiel already explained, "In all those years that you and Tauriel have been friends, it was always you who relented when the two of you had an argument. You were always mature enough to conciliate and soothe her temper – which, as we both know, it not the easiest to deal with."

"Well, I believe my upbringing has taught me a certain amount of civility," the prince pointed out, "I am not some sort of brute, like that corporal…" He stopped, biting his lip. As far as he knew, Tauriel had never officially mentioned her past liaison to her mother, although Nimiel had undoubtedly suspected something and only pretended ignorance out of benevolent discretion. Legolas tried to mask his slip of tongue by adding, "I mean, like some of the corporals and guards and recruits Tauriel works with, who may not treat her very respectfully..." He rolled his eyes and advised himself to stop talking altogether.

"Undoubtedly you are quite the opposite of a brute, my dear Legolas," Nimiel affirmed with a chuckle, "But I wonder if it might not simplify your communication with Tauriel to speak your mind a bit more bluntly once in a while." He did not answer, so she went on, "I myself had to learn long ago that Tauriel sometimes requires… let's call it a gentle little push in the right direction. Her spirit is full of fire that burns too high from time to time." Legolas could not help but nod in approval. There could not have been a more accurate way to describe Tauriel – well, except the popular figure of speech 'stubborn as a dwarf'. "I know," he gave back, "but I am afraid it is not in my nature to argue. I'm not as fiery as she is."

Nimiel took her hands off his head and put them on his shoulders. "Indeed you are not," she agreed, "In fact, you remind me of a calm river. But still waters run deep, do they not? Maybe you need to unleash a little riptide?"

* * *

When Legolas came back to the training yard to get his weapons, it was even more crowded than when he had left. His two remaining recruits were waiting at the entrance, guarding his blades for him. "Thank you," he acknowledged the favour with a forced smile and noticed with relief that both of them were still in possession of all their limbs. "Tavron will recover soon, it is nothing… dramatic," he explained, praying to the Valar that his obvious embarrassment would not cause a permanent loss of respect among the recruits. The two of them just nodded, trying very hard to maintain a professional expression, and Legolas was grateful for the effort.

Although his headache was gone, he figured it would be of no use to continue the training session. Nimiel's strange advice had only added to his confusion and he did not trust himself enough to risk another accident. So he dismissed the recruits and decided to leave.

When he turned around, he bumped into a soldier who was just about to squeeze through the doorway behind him. "Watch where you…" he snapped, but he stopped in the middle of the sentence when he realised it was Tauriel, armed to the teeth and looking rather tense. "Well, excuse me for using this door the way it was intended!" she spit back. They stared at each other for a moment before Legolas' brain switched itself off and he heard himself say, "Tauriel, I've been meaning to talk to you. Do you have a moment?" He regretted it the same instant, considering that the situation was not exactly ideal. She frowned and replied slowly, "Uhm, you know, I'm really behind on my training schedule, so…" She had already walked past him.

Legolas felt a wave of anger rise in his chest. Walking out on him seemed to be her new favourite strategy. He knew he would regret it soon but the impulse of the moment made him go after her and grab her arm maybe a little too roughly. "What?" she hissed, almost slamming the end of her bow into his face. From the corner of his eyes he noticed that people were watching them, but he did not care at all.

"As you wish," he said and unsheathed his daggers, "let's do some training then, if this is the only way I can get you to acknowledge my existence." Tauriel tilted her head in obvious disapproval. "I'm not fighting you," she answered and turned away from him again.

Legolas' long-accumulated anger suddenly culminated in a red-hot eruption of rage. He stepped into her way and attacked her with his dagger, knowing that she would be fast enough to parry his stroke. Indeed she was and the next thing he felt was a slight pain and a warm liquid running down his cheek. Tauriel's eyes were glowing with the same fury that had taken over Legolas' mind. He attacked her again and what had been intended as an unconventional conversation starter now turned into a duel worthy of the name. The strokes fell at second intervals and Legolas noticed with completely misplaced satisfaction that it was the first time during the whole day that he was actually feeling awake.

They had done this a hundred times before and knew each other's tactics by heart. Tauriel was usually faster but Legolas was stronger and more precise. Their skills were equal and neither of them would surrender voluntarily, so judging from the past this duel would take quite a while until one of them made a random mistake.

A small audience had gathered between the stalagmites and people had started to place bets on either one of the duellists. Legolas threw a quick look around and was rewarded for his imprudence by a knock with one of Tauriel's dagger hilts. "I taught you that!" he grumbled while little white dots appeared in his field of vision. "You should have known better," it came back, along with a sarcastic smirk a quick dagger sweep that missed his left ear by the width of a finger. He returned the favour by cutting through the stout fabric of her uniform's sleeve, leaving the skin underneath unharmed – the disbelieving look on her face almost made him grin. But no, he reminded himself, this was not supposed to be fun, he was angry and she should better notice!

He took the next opportunity to grab her wrist – carefully, given the latest events – and twisted her arm into a very uncomfortable position until she dropped the dagger while still trying to use the second one to her advantage. But he had seen it coming and quickly caught her other arm, forcing her to drop her second weapon as well. "You're hurting me!" Tauriel hissed under her breath. Legolas fought the reflex to release her and apologise. Instead he tightened his grip and whispered in her ear, "Really? I wonder what that feels like." Before he could even be repulsed by his own viciousness, Tauriel applied full force to free her right arm and a very audible crack indicated the collision of her elbow with his nasal bone.

Legolas stumbled backwards, covering his nose with both hands. The pain took a moment to unfold, but then it numbed every other sensation and even the boiling anger started to die down. Through a haze of blurriness he saw that Tauriel was still standing on the same spot, immobile, staring at him in shock. "Sorry," she finally mumbled, biting her lip.

Legolas' honourable, well-mannered self wanted to reassure her and accept her apology, but another part of him was too busy enjoying the sweetness of revenge. "How about we call it even and you finally stop avoiding that discussion we need to have?" he said in a very nasal but firm voice, loud enough for everybody in the training yard to hear. He did not care a fig that people would probably wonder what important business the prince and the soldier had to discuss – all he intended was to make Tauriel as uncomfortable as possible.

It seemed to work: After throwing a nervous look at the viewers, who made no effort to hide their curiosity, she let out a sigh that was both frustration and unveiled hostility, picked up her daggers and indicated him to follow her with a jerk of her head.

The normally unused weapon storage room between the training yard and the main armoury was the only place they could think of where there would be no unwelcome listeners. Legolas did not try to be polite anymore, he simply pushed the door open and shoved Tauriel inside. The pain in his nose had almost faded, allowing the annoyance at her dismissive behaviour to resurface. He was well aware that this would not help his ultimate cause, but in that moment all he needed was to give vent to all the emotions he had been suppressing for so long.

Tauriel entered the gloomy little room but stopped at the sight of three guards sitting on a bench. They were wearing their uniforms, which meant that they were probably on duty, but the half-full carafe of wine next to them and the card game they were playing did not fit that notion at all. Tauriel, being a member of the special operations unit and therefore having a somewhat higher status than the ordinary soldiers, addressed them dryly, "So much for the palace guard's proverbial sense of duty. Would you mind…?" The guards eyed Tauriel sceptically, not showing the slightest inclination to move. They had not noticed Legolas yet, but when he stepped into the room their impertinent indifference turned into awkwardness.

He did not know where it came from, but suddenly he heard himself shout at them in a tone of voice so full of authority that it even intimidated himself, "Out! And the next time I see you refuse an order or drink wine during duty, you can hand back those uniforms straight away!" The guards hectically collected their things and hurried out of the storage room. Legolas was still wondering at himself when he turned back towards Tauriel. She did not seem any less impressed and looked at him with an expression that reflected equal amounts of admiration and fright.

There was a short silence before she finally braced herself and addressed him with an awkward half-grin, "So? What subject is important enough to outweigh a nearly broken nose?" Her face left no doubt that she would have preferred being alone in a spider nest to being stuck in this room with him. Legolas, however, was not in the mood to beat around the bush. "Do not play dumb with me," he demanded, "I'm not going to spend another week hiding from the obvious. And frankly, I think it's incredibly rude of you to pretend there's nothing more to talk about." Tauriel's shoulders stiffened and her face turned even more miserable, but somehow she managed to make her voice sound confident when she answered, "I told you that I made a mistake and that I was sorry. I know this doesn't make you feel better but it's all I can give you. What else do you want me to do?"

Legolas let out a deep breath. "I want you to stop lying. To me and to yourself." Tauriel's eyes widened. "What? I'm not…" "The more excuses you make, the longer this is going to take," he interrupted her, surprised at how calm and confident he sounded. Tauriel was speechless for a moment but then a familiar look of defiance appeared on her face. "Who do you think you are to tell me that I'm lying to myself?" she hissed angrily, "Has it occurred to you that just because you fall in love with someone, the other person does not necessarily have to return your feelings? I'm sorry, Legolas, I'm really sorry to disappoint you, but…"

That was it. That was the moment when Legolas Thranduilion, prince of the Woodland Realm, lost all the poise, the composure and the dignity he had been drilled to maintain in every critical situation ever since his childhood. The dam that had been holding back the last bit of his emotions now broke. "You're sorry?" he shouted back at her, "Well, congratulations, but I'm even more sorry I don't believe you! Don't you think after all this time of being your friend I deserve a little honesty?" Tauriel gulped and took a step back while Legolas continued, "I'm not asking you to return any feelings of mine, because if you don't, it can't be helped. But in that case I want you to explain to me why you did not just tell me so instead of kissing me and then giving me all that gibberish about how this would never work. And why were you crying when I came after you? I know you, Tauriel, and what I saw there was not just indifference or a bad consciousness. I want you to look at me and tell me to my face that you feel nothing for me but friendship, and I promise you that from this moment on you will never hear another word about it from me. Go on, tell me! But this time I'd better believe it."

When he had finished his tirade, he crossed his arms and looked at Tauriel, waiting for a reaction. She only stared at him for what seemed like hours and the silence was thick enough to be sliced. Then she sat down on the bench, covering her face with both hands. 'Please don't start crying,' Legolas wished silently. It broke his heart to be so harsh to her but he simply could not help it.

Tauriel took a deep breath, then another one and finally she took her hands off her face – tearless, as he noticed with great relief – and whispered, "I can't tell you that. You're right, it would be a lie. Although I wish it was true." She looked up at him, bewildered. One part of Legolas wanted nothing more than to sit down next to her and comfort her but he forced himself to stay where he was and asked coldly, "You don't expect me to understand this, do you?"

Tauriel got up and turned her back to him. "It's just a stupid idea, you and me… You're a prince and I'm a soldier – how would that work? What you need is a sweet-tempered, well-educated young lady, not someone like me." "What I need is still my decision, isn't it?" Legolas replied. His voice was gentle this time but it left no room for further arguments.

Tauriel turned around to face him. "Your father would hang, draw and quarter me with his bare hands," she pointed out. Legolas could not help but smirk a little, even though the memory of his earlier conversation with the king gave him an uneasy feeling. "He would probably try. But I won't let him, I promise." Tauriel made a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile. "I know how important his opinion is to you…" Why, by the Valar, did she always manage to put her finger on his sore spots with the sureness of a sleepwalker? He interrupted her with a wave of his hand. "There are certain matters that do not exactly require my father's permission." He was starting to get slightly impatient again but he turned the annoyance in his voice into a half-mocking tone. "So, what other excuses do you have?"

Tauriel sighed. "The fickle character of a girl who might soon get tired of love and break your heart." The look on her face was dead serious. Legolas blinked a few times to regain control of his expression. He was not entirely sure if it was meant as teasing when he replied, "Come on, you would be so lucky to have me." "Oh, would I?" Tauriel's voice was dripping with sarcasm but her face was still sincere. "Because you're such a great catch, right, your highness?" She arched an eyebrow – the familiar expression provided a tiny comfort for Legolas in the strange situation they were in.

Her face froze slowly when he did not answer for a while, until he finally managed to say, "No, actually it is because I care about you and respect you and want you to be happy." It was the most honest thing he could have said and it left Tauriel speechless, thoroughly examining the tips of her boots. The Valar knew how desperately Legolas tried to hold his tongue after that, yet he could not stop himself from adding, "But judging from the past, these are not the qualities you value in a man."

Tauriel's eyes came back from their dive – sparkling with fury. "Would you leave Fiondir out of this? That chapter is closed, so how about you let one go once in a while?" "I would, but it's sort of carved into my brain," Legolas gave back more sharply than he intended, "Remember that one time when you were crying your eyes out because he had humiliated you in front of your whole unit and called you useless and incapable? I certainly do. And, just to refresh your memory, who was there to comfort you? Who spent the entire night sitting on that freezing rock with you until you finally believed yourself worthy of being treated decently again? You know, these are the things I'm not willing to 'let go' and neither should you. You obviously disagree with me for whatever reason, but you deserve better than that."

At first Tauriel did not show any visible reaction at all, but suddenly a single tear formed in the corner of her eye and started its way down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily but another one came right after it. "I'm scared, Legolas," she eventually mumbled, "I know how absurd it sounds, but being with Fiondir seemed like a good idea because we meant absolutely nothing to each other. You, on the other hand, are so important to me that the thought of changing anything about our friendship terrifies me. To me, letting people get too close means giving them a chance to hurt me." After a short pause she added, "Although I really want to be more than just your friend." She sighed with resignation. "I'm crazy, aren't I?"

"Absolutely deranged," Legolas replied and shook his head, smiling. He closed the short distance between them and took her in his arms. "Meldis nin," he whispered into her hair, "I would promise you never to hurt you, but as life is impossible to foresee, I hereby give you the solemn permission to break my face if I should ever make the slightest attempt to break your heart." Tauriel let out a short laugh. "Fair enough," she stated, still trying to fight back her tears, "But what if this goes terribly wrong and leaves us hating each other?" "What if it doesn't?" Legolas simply asked back and gave her a challenging look. He knew exactly that the ironic half-grin on his face usually irritated Tauriel a lot, but he could not for the life of him get rid of it.

She pondered the question for a moment before she answered, "I guess you're right, we'll never know unless we give it a try." Legolas tilted his head, smirking. "If you say so…" She poked him in the ribs, but before he could protest she cut him short with a kiss. This time there were no fireflies, no stars and no magical forest, only a gloomy subterranean storage room full of dusty old pieces of armour, but neither Tauriel nor Legolas minded at all.

"So, any second thoughts?" he teased her, trying to untangle his hand from her hair. Tauriel rolled her eyes and smiled. "I'll never hear the end of this, will I?" "Probably not," Legolas admitted and pulled her close again. As far as he was concerned, the day of the broken things had come to the best imaginable ending.


	12. Blue Bellflowers

_As requested, this chapter is a bit fluffier than the ones before. No regrets! :D :D_

* * *

The first thing Tauriel noticed when she entered the gloomy laboratory on the lowest level of the houses of healing was the overwhelming smell. She wrinkled her nose, trying to determine the source of that unique odour, but she gave up as soon as she had to sneeze.

"Good evening and bless you," her brother welcomed her and wiped his hands on the white coat full of undefinable stains he was wearing over his blue healer's robe. He doused the candle he had used to heat up a glass bowl with a reddish brown liquid that Tauriel did not even wish to identify. She had never understood why Amril was so fascinated by all sorts of substances and their effects and interactions. Truth be told, he had already made a few more or less ground-breaking discoveries, such as a very efficient new remedy against spider poison, but Tauriel could not deny that all the countless hours he spent in his smoky little hideaway had not failed to leave their mark on him.

"Do I want to know what you're brewing there?" she asked out of mere politeness while covering her mouth and nose with her handkerchief. Amril came towards her, chuckling. She noticed that his eyes were red and his nose was running, but he seemed as cheerful as an elfling who had just found a colourful bird's feather or a particularly pretty snail shell. "I'm getting closer to the perfect mixing ratio for the anaesthetic I've been working on for three months. Look!" He rolled up his sleeve and started pinching his own forearm that was covered in a large variety of differently shaped blisters. "I don't feel a thing! It's still a little aggressive but as soon as I add some camomile…" Tauriel turned away, waving her hand defensively. "Eru! I knew I shouldn't have asked."

While Amril pulled his sleeve back down, Tauriel leaned against a table full of glass bottles and tubes, eyeing her brother sceptically. "Is it really necessary to test all this stuff on yourself?" she asked and tilted her head in direction of the bubbling substance he had just put aside, "I remember the time when you ate that weird yellow mushroom and couldn't stop giggling for six hours…" "That was fun!" Amril interjected but Tauriel shook her head. "Maybe for you, but the rest of us were dead worried. I mean, it's great that you discover so many helpful things but you shouldn't compromise your own safety." "Look who's talking!" he gave back and Tauriel did not need further elaboration to get the hint. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

"So, do we have everything ready for tomorrow?" Amril took a moment to go through a mental list. "We have the blanket, the salads, the wine, the cider…" "Plates and cutlery?" "Yes, already packed. Have you heard back from all the invited guests?" Tauriel nodded. "So, I believe that's all we need to throw mother a five thousandth birthday picnic worthy of the name," Amril concluded with satisfaction, before his face suddenly froze. "Wait! Who is making the cake?" Now Tauriel was thoroughly confused. "I thought Eilianneth was going to do that?" "No, she can't, she's visiting her parents and won't come back until tomorrow afternoon." Once again Tauriel internally rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law's non-existent organisational skills which annoyed her even more than normally because she felt very exhausted and stressed.

"Fine," she sighed, "Looks like I'll have to take my chances at baking then." Amril stopped himself from laughing in the very last moment. "You? You know as much about cakes as I do about dwarven forging techniques. We could just get a cake from the palace bakery." "No," Tauriel replied decidedly, "that would be too impersonal! I can do this. How hard can it be to make a simple fruitcake?" Her face reflected the determination of a warrior ready to ride to battle.

Amril grinned. "Very well then. I'll bring a selection of antidotes, just in case." Tauriel acknowledged his gracious offer with a gentle slap of her handkerchief.

When she left the laboratory and the relatively fresh air reached her brain, she slowly realised what she had gotten herself into. 'Those fumes really do mess with people's heads,' she stated to herself, 'As if I didn't have enough on my plate as it is!'

Still, a part of her was itching to accept the challenge. She was sick and tired of people telling her how incapable she was of doing anything that was considered typically female. Granted, her lack of talent in arts and music was nothing but remarkable and she had never understood the reward many women found in dealing with children – although she did enjoy playing with her little niece, as long as she could hand her back to Amril and Eilianneth at some point.

Cooking, however, was something she had never felt the slightest inclination to learn. Nimiel in particular had spent hours and hours trying to enthuse her daughter with the culinary arts before she had eventually abandoned that hopeless plan. Tauriel simply did not see the point in it: When she was hungry, she contented herself with food that did not require any time-consuming preparation and apart from special occasions she almost never sat down at a proper table and concentrated on the sole task of eating.

Bringing a homemade cake to the picnic would certainly be a pleasant surprise for Nimiel and restore her faith in her daughter's potential to act like a woman. So Tauriel resolved to ignore her exhaustion, face the challenge and set out on one of the most demanding missions of her career.

* * *

"Let me guess," Legolas said and threw an appraising look into the basket full of baking ingredients that Tauriel was carrying across the courtyard, "You're developing a new defence strategy that involves eggs and apples as missiles." He had just returned from a routine control along the whole border that had taken him two weeks. Seeing Tauriel with such atypical equipment obviously made him wonder if he had accidentally fallen into a parallel universe.

Tauriel needed a moment to process his words before she burst out laughing. "What? No, I'm…" "Wait, I can figure this out!" he interrupted her, making his face look dead serious, "Is this the iron ration everyone has to survive on in case the Woodland palace is besieged?" Tauriel tilted her head. "That's actually a good idea, but no." Legolas gave her the most investigative look he could manage. "Are you seriously telling me that you are going to bake a cake? Because, frankly, the other two possibilities seemed far more likely."

Tauriel resisted the urge to poke him in the ribs because there were lots of people around and both of them deemed it wise to be careful with public displays of affection. Instead she explained, "It's an emergency solution. Amril and I just noticed that we had no cake for tomorrow's picnic, and as everyone else is busy, I'll have to do my best to make one." "Can you use some help?" Legolas offered. Tauriel frowned, although she was of course going to accept. "You've never baked a cake in your life," she pointed out. "True," he admitted, "but I absolutely have to see this."

The kitchen of the guard's quarters was an ample and surprisingly well-stocked room that Tauriel had not seen from the inside in weeks. It was empty when they arrived because it was already getting late and the traces of that evening's dinner preparation had long been eliminated. Besides, most of the soldiers shared Tauriel's approach to cooking and did not engage in individual culinary experiments.

"Ideal conditions," Legolas observed, "no witnesses to spread the tale of the grand fruitcake massacre." Tauriel nodded in approval, but given the favourable circumstances she was in no hurry to proceed with her baking project immediately. She gave Legolas a suggestive smile and he took the opportunity to put his arms around her and gently kiss her neck. "I've missed you," he whispered into her ear. Tauriel used her free hand to caress his cheek before she pulled him closer and covered his lips with hers. They stood there for quite a while, shamefully neglecting the mission they had set out to accomplish, until the heavy basket hanging on her arm eventually reminded Tauriel of the task at hand.

She set the basket on the large, sturdy table in the centre of the room and unpacked the ingredients while Legolas lit the torches on the walls. "I copied this recipe from a cookbook Galion showed me," Tauriel explained and waved a piece of paper, "It's the one that looked the least complicated." Legolas tried to hide his ironic grin by engaging in the task of lighting the fire in the oven.

Tauriel took several bowls from a shelf and arranged them on the table. The sight made a childhood memory cross her mind. "Do you remember how we always wanted to help Galion make biscuits when we were little?" Legolas nodded. "Of course I do. Although it was mostly for the chance to eat raw dough, as far as I recall. Our cruel battles about who would get to lick the bowl still haunt my dreams." Tauriel chuckled and opened the bag of flour.

Legolas had successfully lit the oven and walked over to the table. "What can I do?" he asked, eager to make himself useful. "First of all you need to wash those sooty hands," Tauriel commanded and pursed her lips disapprovingly. Legolas looked down on his hands, then back at Tauriel. "Don't you dare!" she warned him when she saw his mischievous expression, but it was already too late. All she could do to parry his soot assault was to grab a handful of flour and pay him back in his own coin.

"How old are we again?" Tauriel reasoned with ironic resignation while they were getting rid of the respective black and white stains. "Never too old to be inappropriate," Legolas replied and Tauriel could tell by his smile how much a little silliness between all his royal duties helped him relax – just like herself, for what it was worth.

"So, back to business," he declared and threw a determined glance at the recipe, "How about you mix the dough and I cut the apples?" Tauriel had no objections; to her all of the required tasks were equally unfamiliar. She started to crack the eggs, cursing under her breath when she had to fish dozens of tiny pieces of eggshell out of the bowl.

She threw a look over to Legolas who was expertly massacring the apples as if they were his opponents in a fairly uneven battle. "You're not supposed to mutilate them, you know," she pointed out, "they probably won't offer much resistance." Legolas stopped and slowly turned his head towards her. "Trust me, I'm perfectly capable of cutting fruit," he assured her with an arched eyebrow. Tauriel stared back at him in disbelief. Legolas' sensitivity whenever he imagined his competence to be doubted was a trait he had not yet outgrown since Tauriel had encountered it at their very first meeting.

Although she knew it was unwise, she added, "Excuse me, I'm only trying to optimise the result of our mutual effort." Legolas' reaction convinced her that she had not quite succeeded in making her voice sound friendly. He put down the knife – thank the Valar – and crossed his arms. "How about you start the optimising process by minding your eggshells instead of telling me how to cut apples?"

'Eru help me!' Tauriel thought. She always pretended to be annoyed by Legolas' lacking ability to take criticism, but, truth be told, despite her current state of mental strain a part of her found it excessively amusing and even a little bit charming when the slightly spoiled Sinda princeling made an appearance.

She resolved that a confrontation would neither benefit the cake project nor her own peace of mind and pulled out the oldest but still most effective of all feminine wiles. "Oh, come on," she said with the sweetest – and dumbest – smile her face could produce, "Let's not quarrel about such banalities. You see, I'm really worried about getting this right and you know how bad I am at cooking. That's why I'm so glad to have your support."

She rolled her eyes internally. This manoeuvre was so easy to see through that she had no idea why it actually worked every single time. She wondered whether she should leave it at that, but then she decided to go one better, just for the fun of it. So she took a step towards him, put her arms around his waist and gave him a look that could have turned a warg into a purring kitten. "Now stop looking so grim, it doesn't become you at all," she breathed right next to his ear.

Legolas frowned ironically. "You are aware that I'm not actually falling for this but merely admiring your effort, aren't you?" he asked. "I don't care," Tauriel gave back, "You're smiling, which is exactly what I was going for." He let out an exhausted sigh and shook his head. "Just stop talking," he ordered and effected his request by shoving an apple slice into her mouth.

So a very self-satisfied Tauriel went back to the dough while Legolas finished the fruit carnage. After checking the recipe once again and performing the absolutely crucial taste test, they poured the dough into a baking mould, distributed the apples on it and put their masterpiece into the oven. "One quick question," Legolas interjected, studying the recipe, "Do you remember how long it's supposed to stay in there? Because it doesn't say…" Tauriel frowned. "Right, that would indeed be a useful piece of information." She chewed on her lower lip. "Do you think we could just wait until it starts smelling like cake?" Legolas shrugged cluelessly. "We'll see" was all he could say to reassure her.

While they were tidying up the table and washing the bowls, Legolas voiced his concern about the upcoming picnic. "I don't know if that's a good idea. It's not that warm yet. Wouldn't it be better to stay indoors or at least close to the palace?" Tauriel nodded and explained, "My exact words! But Nimiel insisted on the picnic plan. Apparently that's what they used to do back in Doriath and she didn't accept Amril's and my point that the weather conditions in spring may have been different there." "They were," Legolas agreed, "My father still complains about the long winters and the chilly springs here every single year."

That notion made another thought cross Tauriel's mind. "Speaking of your family: I bet you didn't know that Nimiel had some serious issues with your grandfather back in the day. When we talked about the picnic, she mentioned that there had been a beautiful meadow full of bluebells near her parents' house – I don't even know exactly what bluebells look like, I've never seen any in our forest… Anyway, that meadow was where Nimiel and her family and friends used to go for their picnics. Until, and now listen, your grandfather turned it into a paddock for his horses! You should have seen her when she told me that. She was downright outraged, after more than four thousand years! He still seems to be a sensitive topic with her…"

Legolas obviously had trouble picturing a furious Nimiel, but he did have something to say about his grandfather. "After all the things I've heard about Lord Oropher, your story doesn't surprise me too much. He must have been, well, let's call it challenging. I mean, if even my father says so…" After a short pause, which Tauriel clearly recognised as an internal struggle, he finally added, "We were never explicitly told so in history class, but apparently it was mainly his fault that the War of the Last Alliance ended in a catastrophe for the Woodland army. He made a premature advance because he couldn't stand to be told what to do by his commander-in-chief…"

Tauriel tried desperately to turn her very inappropriate chuckle into a cough, but in the end she failed to hide her amusement. "What?" Legolas inquired, already suspecting what she might say next. "Nothing, absolutely nothing," she lied and bit her fist in order to not laugh out loud. Legolas came over to her, armed with a wet dishrag. "Are you, by any chance, implying that my grandfather's resistance to advice proved to be hereditary?" The smirk on his face incited Tauriel to answer, "Well, be it High King Gil-galad pursuing his war strategy or me trying to protect some innocent apples from mutilation – the similarities are indeed strik-…" She had not yet finished when she saw the dishrag fly towards her. She ducked away and it landed on the stone floor with a loud splat. "Aww, missed!" she mocked Legolas with a pitiful expression.

He let out a deep breath and conceded, "Granted, I don't like to be lectured, but you have to admit that your control issues only add fuel to the fire." "My what?" Tauriel protested, "I don't have contr-…" "Of course you do," it came back immediately, "And they're even worse since you were given those patrol units to supervise." While he walked past her to pick up the dishrag, Tauriel could not stop her eyes from following his every movement maybe a little too anxiously, although she was painfully aware that she could not have provided better proof for his point. "No control issues, I see," he stated laconically and threw the dishrag into a bucket on the floor with the accuracy of an archer.

"Fine!" Tauriel gave in reluctantly, "But I can't help it, it's my job to have things under control. You have no idea how stressful this last week has been." She leaned against the table and bent her neck back and forth and then to both sides. It gave two or three quite audible cracks. Legolas made a grimace. "Then, as your superior in command, I hereby order you to take a break and relax," he requested, not sounding militarily at all, "You seriously look as tense as a bow-string."

He closed the distance between them, stepped behind her and started to massage her shoulders. Tauriel made no effort to deny how good it felt. When his hands slid beneath her collar, the warm touch reminded her again of how much she had missed him during the past weeks – and not only in a strictly emotional way. She waited another moment before she turned around and remarked as innocently as she could, "I'll do my best to obey your order, but I'm afraid I'll need some more assistance in accomplishing that mission." Her fingers traced a line along his jaw and his neck and the smile that spread over his face let her know that he had got the hint. A very reasonable part of her wondered if this was really such a good idea, given the unconventional surroundings, but the warm shiver that ran down her back when he drew her towards him pushed the concerns of decency aside.

* * *

"What, in the name of the Great Yavanna, is this?" Her sister-in-law's critical glance at her masterpiece made Tauriel cross her arms in defiance. "What does it look like?" she gave back, slightly offended. Eilianneth frowned and looked back and forth between Tauriel and the cake she had brought. "To be honest, I'm not sure I want to try this," she admitted. Tauriel felt her cheeks flush red. "Well, it's a little crunchier than most cakes are, but I already scraped off all the black bits…"

Amril, who stood next to his wife and had been contemplating the pastry in silence until then, stepped into the breach for his sister, "Don't worry, I'm sure it's a perfectly good cake. It was a last minute solution and Tauriel's effort should be recognised…" "Ugh, shut up!" Tauriel cut him short, which earned her another disapproving glare from Eilianneth and a grin from Amril.

She withdrew her disregarded artwork from their undeserving eyes and set it on the picnic blanket. The small group of guests – consisting of no more than three people apart from the family – had gathered in the forest clearing that served as the healers' herb plantation. Nimiel had taken the liberty to misuse it for her private purposes just for that one afternoon.

Tauriel smiled at the sight of her mother kneeling on the blanket with Amril and Eilianneth's little daughter, trying to teach her a song about a hungry bee and a vain flower. When the child saw Tauriel, a happy smile spread over her face. "Look who it is," Nimiel said to the girl and, turning to her daughter, she added, "As soon as her favourite aunt arrives, grandmother's boring old songs are all but forgotten." She laughed in pretended resignation. Tauriel was glad to see her so relaxed and cheerful.

The cake attracted the curious looks of the three invited guests – two of Nimiel's fellow healers and the palace's head seamstress who was her best and oldest friend. Now Tauriel blushed even more. Nimiel had already expressed her appreciation of her daughter's gesture and if there had been any scepticism regarding the cake's quality, she had hid it very well. The seamstress, however, had never been famous for her tact. "How does one even manage to burn a cake to this degree?" she asked bluntly before Nimiel's glare hit her. "I-I underestimated the heat of the oven," Tauriel improvised, knowing how stupid her excuse sounded. But still, it was a hundred times less embarrassing than the truth about why she had lost track of the baking time. In order to escape the uncomfortable situation, she picked up her niece and took her for an expedition to the edge of the clearing.

When the little girl had picked enough pretty flowers and admired enough colourful insects, she declared the adventure for successful by starting the return journey to her parents. She crawled onto Amril's lap and proudly showed him a half-rotten acorn she had found beneath an oak tree. Tauriel sat down as far away from the seamstress as she could, which made her end up between Eilianneth and Nimiel.

"You know what," her sister-in-law remarked casually after a while of observing the excited little girl, "a child becomes you." Tauriel's jaw dropped in complete bewilderment. As if that was not enough, somehow Eilianneth had managed to slip her comment into a pause in the general conversation, so that everyone, including the guests, had heard it. Tauriel wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide. Instead she worked up an awkward grin and gave back, "So does a bow." She quickly helped herself to a piece of her cake and stuffed it into her mouth, noticing with satisfaction that it did not taste half as horrible as it looked.

Unfortunately Eilianneth was not done yet. "Haven't you ever considered getting married? I'm sure you wouldn't have trouble finding a husband if you only refrained from beating him up." Tauriel saw Amril and Nimiel exchange a worried look. She took a deep breath and continued to chew on her piece of cake, hoping that the wine would soon be opened.

Nimiel, seeing her daughter's distress, could not hold back any longer and started a diversionary manoeuvre. "Tauriel will do whatever she deems best," she interjected diplomatically, "I myself got married at well over a thousand years of age, so I can safely state that she has all the time in the world. By the way, did I ever tell you the story of how my brother's wedding day ended in a complete disaster?"

* * *

The corridors of the houses of healing were quiet and dark when Nimiel arrived; both of the night nurses as well as the other present healer seemed to be busy. After taking the day off despite the current shortage of staff, Nimiel had resolved to silence her conscience by doing the night shift. The last few weeks had been exceptionally hectic and there seemed to be a new spider victim every day. It was the natural course of the year: Every spring the spiders crawled out of their winter hideouts and started to reproduce. During that season their parental instincts – however bizarre that notion appeared – made them more aggressive than ever.

Nimiel shook her head and frowned. Who would have thought that she should live five thousand years only to end up in a forest infested by bloodthirsty beasts? Five thousand years – the number sounded so unreal to her. She did not feel that old yet, and not altogether as wise as she imagined someone of that age should be. Most people at the palace considered her an elleth of great wisdom and skill, but in the face of all the evil and suffering she had seen, Nimiel herself sometimes felt utterly inadequate and helpless.

She took a deep breath. No, she would not let the memory of this lovely day be spoiled by gloomy thoughts! The picnic had been a pleasant diversion from her busy work schedule and apart from the minor disagreements between Tauriel and Eilianneth it had been very harmonic. Her daughter-in-law had a veritable talent in accidentally putting her finger on people's uncomfortable spots and this time it had been poor Tauriel's turn. Nimiel was still impressed about how stoically her tempestuous daughter had borne the inconvenient questions about getting married and having children.

Nimiel herself had learned long ago that the best way to satisfy one's curiosity about Tauriel's private life was silent observation rather than blunt questions. She saw a lot more than she spoke out loud, and in Tauriel's case, what she saw made her happy and worried at the same time. She wished to the Valar that Tauriel would be spared the grief that could accompany the risky endeavour of getting involved with nobility. But, Nimiel reminded herself, she was probably just overanxious. The king was not as obstinate as his own father had been and Legolas, however dutiful he was, would certainly not let any concerns of status come into his way. So Nimiel forced herself to stop worrying for the moment, laughing at the realisation of what a mother hen she could be at times.

She entered the office where she hoped not to find any alarming messages. The little room was dark but she did not bother lighting a torch because she could already see that her desk was empty – apart from a vase full of flowers. Nimiel smiled; obviously her colleagues had not forgotten about the fact that their head healer could now rightfully be called old. But a moment later she wondered. Had not Belegor brought a bunch of flowers along with the wishes of all the healers and nurses to the picnic? She took a few steps towards the desk.

She pulled one of the flowers out of the vase and examined it more closely. Could it be? Nimiel gulped as a wave of memories flooded her mind. She had not seen or smelled bluebells in such a long time that she had almost forgotten how much she had loved their scent and colours back in the day. But where did they come from? As far as she knew, bluebells did not grow in the Greenwood, at least not where she had ever set foot.

Curiously, she took another close look at the vase, and indeed she found a piece of paper among the flowers. She unfolded it and recognised the distinctive but neat handwriting that she knew very well from all sorts of written orders concerning the administration of the healing quarters. The few lines, dripping with irony but still representing a heartwarming gesture, made her smile and blush at the same time, although she did not quite understand the reason.

'I was unaware that our horse paddock caused you so much distress. Please accept my attempt of redemption, along with my sincerest apologies, however deficient and delayed they may be.'


	13. Grey Wolves

Tauriel's arms felt as heavy as if she were wearing a solid steel armour and her eyelids wanted to drop every few seconds. She had spent the whole night on patrol, searching the area west of the palace for a pack of wargs that had been spotted near a settlement. The guards had not found the creatures so far but the search continued.

Although Tauriel wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and get some rest, she was dragging herself to the training yard, carrying a basket full of pine cones, and hoped to stay at least half awake during the following two hours. It was a busy time for all the officers who were involved in the training of that year's generation of recruits. After two years of theoretical and practical training they had to pass an intermediate test before starting their probation as part of a regular guard unit.

Tauriel had been assigned to give them some additional archery lessons and the challenge of teaching, as much as she enjoyed it most of the time, proved to be more demanding than she had expected. There were five aspiring guards and each one of them had already reached a tolerable skill level, but the mistakes they still made out of carelessness were a thorn in Tauriel's side. She did not strive for perfection, all she asked from the recruits was a reasonable level of dedication. After all, her own reputation would be affected as well if they did not pass their test due to mediocre shooting.

Remembering her own training years, she understood perfectly well under how much pressure the young soldiers were so shortly before the assessment and how little enthusiasm they had left for additional training. Nevertheless she was starting to get slightly annoyed by their attitude. She did her very best to support them, she truly put her heart and soul into the task of bringing them forward, but all she got in return was some half-hearted effort and very poor discipline. She strongly believed that being nice and understanding to them and getting them excited about their training was the only way to succeed, so that was how she treated them, despite her occasional urges to throw them into the dirt and beat them up. Should they not be grateful for any help they could get? And what made them think that their future duties would be any less tiresome?

Tauriel shook her head. Had she been the same during her own training period? She strongly doubted it! Although she recalled lots of occasions when she would even have preferred a career as a laundrywoman to all the muscle ache and feelings of inadequateness that came with being a Woodland guard in training, she would never have dared to show anything less than maximum effort to her superiors. Those current recruits, however…

"What foul creature of Morgoth was it that chewed you and spat you out again?" an all too familiar voice welcomed her in the training yard. Tauriel forced her tired eyes to focus, only to see an equally bewildered and sarcastic look on her former corporal's face. At least she was drowsy enough not to mind his presence too much, she reasoned, and gave back, "Good morning to you too. What are you doing here so early?" He held up his bow. "Getting used to this. My old one broke two days ago. Did you know that spider fangs could cut through beech wood?" "I had no idea," Tauriel stated absently and shook her head in an attempt to pretend interest despite her failure to focus on anything but keeping her eyes open. She vaguely remembered that she had to check the targets for the training session and started walking to the other end of the cave.

"What in Eru's name are they doing to you in the special operations unit?" Fiondir inquired with a raised eyebrow when she came scuffling back towards him. Tauriel shrugged. "Nothing in particular. It's just that I have an archery lesson ahead of me and I've spent the last twenty hours on my feet, half of them running through the forest and chasing some wargs. Which we did not find, by the way." She let out a sigh of frustration and fought the urge to lean against one of the stalagmites because she knew that she would fall asleep as soon as she started to relax. "We'll keep our eyes open for any signs," Fiondir answered and, after a short pause, he wanted to know, "How are the recruits progressing?"

Tauriel could not help but frown a little but she quickly regained control of her face and said indifferently, "Very well. They've reached the required hit rate over short and medium distances and now we're working on moving targets…" She bit her tongue because she could clearly see that he had noticed her frown. She did not want to show any weakness, especially not in front of Fiondir, but her exhaustion was undermining her honourable intentions. "They're fine," she repeated, trying to convince herself just as much as him.

Fiondir nodded slowly and gave her a sceptical "Hmm!" which caused an unexpected wave of defiance to flood Tauriel's tired mind because it reminded her too much of the other teachers' reactions to her problem. She seemed to be the only one who could not handle the recruits and she had no idea what it was that she did differently than the others.

"Why do you care?" she asked more aggressively than intended. He explained, "It's my turn again this year, one of them will join my unit. As if we didn't have enough trouble with all the spiders out there…" "Excuse me?" Tauriel's own sharp interjection woke her up for a moment and allowed her to throw a glare at the corporal who had just indirectly insulted her. He cleared his throat and corrected himself, "You were an exception in every possible way, as you know very well." This time it was Tauriel who let out a cynical grumble. "I didn't notice a lot of that appreciation," she pointed out and added with as much determination as she could manage, "You better treat your new recruit decently!" "Then you better make sure I get something I can work with," he simply replied. Tauriel took a mental note to try and persuade the captain to give Fiondir the most thick-skinned of all the recruits – and preferably not one of the girls.

"Do you mind if I stay and shoot some more arrows?" he asked, much to Tauriel's surprise. Confused at the atypical gesture of politeness, she answered, "Of course. I mean, I can't force you to leave." "In fact, you can," he objected, tapping the badge on her uniform's shoulder. Tauriel rolled her eyes. "As if you would obey my order! Besides, I'm practically the same rank as you, only with a different name due to the different type of unit I belong to." "You are the first cornet in the whole history of the Woodland guard to acknowledge that," Fiondir stated dryly. Tauriel let out a short laugh. "I wish you were wrong. That whole chain of command system still seems so strange to me. I mean, can't we all just talk, like normal people, instead of ordering each other around?" Fiondir smirked sarcastically and said, "If that worked, guard duty would be far more pleasant, but believe me, it doesn't. You'll see that sooner or later." With that he gave her an ironic salute and turned towards his target again.

A moment later Tauriel already heard her five protégés enter the training yard. 'Here we go,' she thought and straightened her back as if to prove to herself that she was ready to face this challenge.

"As a warm-up each of you will shoot these four targets in a row as quickly as you can," Tauriel instructed, "If you miss the centre, you try again. The fastest one doesn't have to throw pine cones today." She held up one of said cones and smiled at the recruits hopefully. At the beginning of every lesson she invented a playful little warm-up that was supposed to raise their motivation. Throwing the pine cones in the air to simulate moving targets was the most unpopular task among the recruits, so Tauriel hoped to bribe their enthusiasm with the chance of avoiding it.

Her hope was crushed after one look at their unimpressed faces. "Can we skip that and move right on to the real practice?" a young man with a particularly unmotivated expression asked her as politely as he could. Tauriel dug her fingernails into her palm. 'Stay calm!' she reminded herself although she already felt her disappointment turn into anger. "No, Cilon, we cannot," she replied instead and tried to maintain her forced smile, "It is important to warm up before the exercises we are going to do today. Why don't you go first?" He nodded shortly and stepped forward with his bow. He aimed and shot four times, his face void of all emotion, and went back to the end of the line.

His comrades followed his example and shot the targets very methodically, completely missing the purpose of the game, but Tauriel waited a while until she explained once again, "You know, the point is to be fast…" The recruit who was currently shooting glanced over to her teacher and made a tiny attempt to move more quickly. In the end that left her as the winner of the game but her excitement could certainly have been more visible.

After the warm-up they moved on to their current field of practice. While positioning the basket full of pine cones in a strategic spot, Tauriel threw a look over to Fiondir. He caught it and made no effort to hide his disapproval. Tauriel ignored him and focused on her recruits again. "Do you remember the exercise?" she inquired and obtained five more or less confident nods. The principle was simple: One recruit threw a pine cone in the air and another one had to bring it down with an arrow. The exercise could be varied by different trajectories and shooting angles but for the moment Tauriel only concentrated on the basic concept of hitting these small moving targets without adding any further difficulty.

The recruits took turns throwing and shooting and Tauriel was almost impressed by the results, but after a few rounds they got bored and probably a little spoiled by her praise. They began to throw the cones in different ways that made it impossible for their comrades to hit them. At first Tauriel could not help but laugh with them at their fruitless but very original attempts. At least now they seemed to wake up and really make an effort. But after a while the arrows started to go too far astray and when she had almost been hit twice, Tauriel resolved that she had to get the recruits refocused. "Could you do me a favour and do this correctly?" she tried her luck, "You know this will be part of your test…"

"Tauriel?" one of the female recruits addressed her abruptly and held up her bow with a questioning look. Tauriel turned towards the girl and suppressed her frown. "I also have a rank, but that's fine," she replied dryly, wondering if her palms were already bleeding from all the times her fingernails had been buried in them, "What is it?" But before she got an answer, a buzzing noise and the sound of an impact, followed by a scream, drew her attention away from the girl.

Everything had happened very quickly, so Tauriel only saw the result of the accident: One of the recruits – it was Cilon, who had just been shooting – was kneeling on the floor and staring down at his thigh in shock. There was a cut in his trousers and the edges were starting to turn red. Tauriel rushed towards him, quickly scanning the rest of the situation. An arrow lay next to him – but it was not the kind they used in training. She stopped and slowly turned her head to the other side of the training yard. Fiondir was approaching them, holding his bow in one hand and a training arrow in the other, an annoyed look on his face.

Now not even her own fingernails could stop Tauriel from exploding anymore. "What is wrong with you?" she shouted at the corporal who could not have looked more indifferent, "Did you just…? Why would you…?" The sheer lack of words to express the amount of disbelief and fury she was feeling made her stop yelling and crouch down next to the injured recruit instead.

She noticed with relief that his wound gave no reason to worry. The arrow had only grazed his thigh and the worst part of it was probably the shock. "Calm down," Tauriel addressed him firmly, "It's nothing dramatic." "I-I didn't mean to…" he stuttered, looking back and forth between Tauriel and Fiondir, "I'm s-sorry, corporal, i-it was an accident." Tauriel put her hand on his shoulder to silence him and glared up at the corporal, not deeming him worthy of one more word.

He simply shrugged and said, "What? I can't defend myself if one of these clueless imbeciles attempts to shoot me?" "I'm sorry," Cilon repeated, but Fiondir cut him short, "Quiet! You should pray to every single Vala not to end up in my unit!" Now all of the young soldiers, not just the unfortunate archer, exchanged nervous looks.

Tauriel rose from the floor and hissed at Fiondir, "Would you stop threatening my recruits? And as for this violent assault…" "Which I call a life lesson," Fiondir gave back, still infuriatingly calm, "Whenever they miss their aim, there will probably be a creature out there that won't. Someone has to introduce them to the reality of guard duty if their own teacher fails to do so." Tauriel gasped. She thanked the Great Nienna for giving her enough patience not to go for his throat. "Can we – please – not discuss this in the presence of five other people?" she asked instead. It was not meant half as politely as it sounded. "Very well," Fiondir agreed and turned to the recruits, "Out!" Although that was not what Tauriel had intended, she could not help but be a little impressed: She had never seen them obey an order so quickly; even poor injured Cilon managed to leave the training yard in no time.

When they were out of earshot, Tauriel faced Fiondir and spat at him, "What was that about? You just attacked a recruit and undermined my authority in front of my students!" He let out a sarcastic snort. "Come on, the arrow hardly touched him. And as for your second point: What authority? They clearly have no respect for you whatsoever. I hate so say this, my dear Tauriel, but I can't even blame them." "Beg your pardon?" Tauriel felt her face flush red. She could not think of anything more intelligent to say because he had just spoken out loud what she had been painfully aware of for a long time. "You're far too nice to them," Fiondir went on, "Playing games with them and laughing about their misbehaviour… And those arrows flying criss-cross about the training yard – that was incredibly dangerous! You can't tolerate things like that!" Tauriel crossed her arms and replied, "I happen to believe in a friendly approach to teaching. At least my recruits aren't terrified of me." She glared at him aggressively but Fiondir only shrugged. "Sometimes a healthy amount of fear can be very beneficial to a soldier's attitude," he claimed. Tauriel shook her head. "Well, I disagree." They stared at each other for a moment before Fiondir said, "Fine, do whatever you want. But with this philosophy you won't get them through their test – which would be a terrible waste, not only with regards to them."

He turned on his heels and left the training yard, undoubtedly frightening the recruits once again on his way out. Tauriel just stood there in silence for a while, then she summoned all her strength and courage and called them back in.

* * *

Not that Tauriel had still been sound asleep – after all she was not a mortal woman or even a dwarf who had to spend half her life asleep in order to function tolerably – but the knock at her door startled her nevertheless. "Just a moment!" she called and quickly rose from her bed – she had not even bothered taking off her uniform and crawling under the blanket, so the unexpected visitor would not find her in a too improper state. However, the door already being opened regardless of what she had just said, made her exclaim, "When did you hear me say 'Ent-…'? Oh, it's you."

Legolas quickly squeezed through the door crack and closed it as quietly as he could. "Sorry," he mumbled, "Two people just came around the corner and I thought they did not necessarily have to see me come in her." He grinned apologetically but Tauriel replied, "Your discretion honours you but this is the Woodland palace. I would be surprised if there was anyone who did not know by now." A smile of both amusement and resignation flashed over her face while she tried to untangle the worst snarls in her hair.

"What brings you here anyway?" she asked and invited him in with a wave of her hand. The chambers in the guard's quarters were small, but still there was no need for a guest to stand around at the door the whole time. Tauriel smiled internally at Legolas' impeccable manners that made him wait for the hostess' signal although he had been in her chamber a thousand times and knew exactly that he could make himself at home without further permission.

He held up a book and said, "I wanted to return this to you – thank you for lending it to me." He placed the book on the small table at the opposite wall and leaned against it while contemplating Tauriel's struggle with her hair. Noticing his amusement, she stopped combing it with her fingers and observed, "Right, because that couldn't possibly wait until tonight when I'm going to report to you anyway." "Fine," he gave in, grinning, "Obviously there is no chance of deceiving you. I simply wanted to see you." Tauriel smiled widely. "Now I'm relieved. I was beginning to wonder if you had really faced all these adversaries, such as gossipy soldiers in the corridors and your own busy schedule, to come here on errand alone." She had approached him and wrapped her arms around his neck, being rewarded with a kiss and a helping hand in the cumbersome endeavour of untangling her hair.

After a while Tauriel's thoughts wandered back to business and she inquired, "What about the untraceable warg pack? Has it been found yet?" A worried expression appeared on Legolas' face. "No, they seem to be more cunning than most of their kind." "Sorry we disappointed you," Tauriel said with a frown, but Legolas stopped her by taking her hand. "It's no more your fault than mine or anyone else's. There are enough watchmen at every settlement, so we don't need to worry too much for now. If the patrol units have not found the pack by tomorrow morning, we're going to launch a more extensive search. In fact, I would like you to join the party because you are familiar with the area. Given that your recruits can spare you for a day or two..."

Tauriel made no effort to hide her approval. "Absolutely! They can practise sword fighting instead. I guess they've had enough of bows and arrows for a while after today." "Why, what happened?" Legolas asked curiously, taking the liberty of sitting down on the tabletop because he did not want to occupy the only chair in the room. Tauriel, however, had no use for it either and claimed the space next to him. "To be honest," she explained and leaned against his shoulder, "the lesson was a disaster. I don't know what I'm doing wrong but I can't get them to take anything seriously." She sighed cluelessly and managed a weak grin when she felt Legolas' hand on her back. "Still that bad?" he asked, painfully reminding her that she had already complained about the recruits far too often, although she knew that his remark had not been meant that way.

He offered her the same advice he had given her on several occasions before, "You can't do more than try. If they're too immature to accept the help you're offering them, it's not your problem. I know you want them to succeed, but in the end teaching is nothing but a temporary side task for you. You shouldn't let one minor difficulty make you doubt yourself so much." Tauriel's face started smiling all by itself at his effort to make her feel better, however fruitless it was. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear and put her arms around him, "But maybe you should hear the story first." "I'm all ears," he replied not too convincingly, but somehow he still managed to focus on what she was saying, despite the distracting circumstance of her warm breath on his neck.

"One of them got shot in the leg today," she admitted, causing Legolas to straighten his posture abruptly and stare at her in disbelief. "Not by me, by Fiondir!" Tauriel specified quickly, "And the boy was not completely innocent. It was only a graze… Now will you stop looking at me like this?" She nudged him with her elbow. Legolas shook off his astonishment and interjected, "Wait a moment, what does Fiondir have to do with your recruits?" "He just happened to be in the training yard and, well, one of them almost shot him. So he deemed it necessary to teach them a very ... emphatic lesson." Legolas made no effort to hide his contempt and he did not even have to say anything for Tauriel to understand.

After a short pause she continued, "You know what Fiondir said to me? He basically told me that I have no leadership qualities whatsoever because I'm too lax with my subordinates. And the worst part is that I think he has a point. I mean, let's be honest, even the recruits don't give an orc's toenail about my orders." She sighed, looking up at him. "Do you think he's right?" The awkwardness reflected on Legolas' face could not be accurately described by any word in the tongues of elves, men and dwarves. "The forest guard units you supervise function perfectly..." was his weak attempt to reassure her, but Tauriel saw right through it. "As long as they agree with me, yes. But the only time I've ever tried to introduce a tiny change to their routine, it took me two weeks and endless discussions with the corporals to even get them to consider my idea. Is that how the often quoted chain of command is supposed to work?"

Legolas looked as if he were close to imploding. "You know how much I loathe to say this..." he started hesitantly, but Tauriel interrupted him, "Oh, Eru! You do agree with Fiondir." It was not a question and there was no bitterness in her voice. "I certainly don't approve of his methods," Legolas clarified firmly. 'Or his existence, for what it's worth,' Tauriel added in her mind, clearly remembering their nerve-racking quarrels in the past, before Legolas went on, "But maybe it would simplify your work if you tried to be a little more... determined. I know you don't like the whole principle of commanding other people and I know how difficult it is to find the right tone – I struggled a lot at first, too." "You have been groomed into ordering people around since the very day you were born!" Tauriel pointed out and Legolas, after a moment of doubt and a nearly invisible blush, had to relent. "Fine, maybe it is easier for me. But I still think you are capable of being an excellent leader. You have a talent for strategy and organising, we've seen that on many occasions. You will grow into the rest of it once you are in a position that requires you to command larger units."

It was meant as an encouragement but Tauriel only shrugged and shook her head. "I don't want to command anything larger than my occasional patrol units! I'm perfectly content with my current position." When she saw a sudden inexplicable frown flash over Legolas' face, she concluded that she needed to explain her opinion in more detail and added, "I like the sort of work where I can do things on my own, be responsible for my safety alone and not suffer the consequences of anyone's mistakes but mine. A high rank doesn't necessarily hold many advantages that outweigh this kind of freedom. Take lieutenant Glorendir, for example. Do you think the spider that ripped off his head last week checked his insignia first? I'm telling you, I don't envy the person who has to take over the southern division now, whoever that may be."

For some reason Legolas's expression became even more uncomfortable for the split of a second, but then his face lightened up again and he reached for her hand. "Time will tell. I think you just need a little more practice. Now please do me a favour and get rid of that sour frown. Your smile is far too beautiful to be hidden under all these layers of glumness."

* * *

As expected, the warg pack had not been discovered by the following morning, so Tauriel honoured her promise and reported for duty at the main gate, armed to the teeth and ready to make up for her earlier failure in eliminating the threat. She had expected to encounter soldiers from her own unit or at least some of the forest guards she usually worked with. Her bewilderment could not have been bigger at the sight of the six grim-faced fellows gathered in the courtyard.

"Why did you pick them of all people?" she asked Legolas under her breath as soon as the unit had started moving. He shrugged and gave her a rather enigmatic look. "I don't know, because they were available… It was a last minute decision. Why, what's wrong with them?" Tauriel just shook her head; she knew better than to discuss the subject any further.

So much for her intention to finally get rid of the wargs! The soldiers Legolas was taking on this mission did not look very trustworthy to Tauriel. She recognised three of them as watchmen who normally stood sentry around the palace, two others belonged to a border guard unit in the East, and the last one did not look familiar at all. One thing all of them had in common was the fact that they seemed rather unenthusiastic and – as Tauriel observed on the way through the forest – not very skilled at subtlety. Of course each one of them could still have shot a dwarf in the dark or bound a troll's feet without him even noticing, but that was not the standard a soldier of the Woodland guard should be judged by. Tauriel cursed Legolas for his carelessness in choosing the members of the hunting party, yet she could do nothing but hope for the best possible outcome.

The group split up at a road junction near the settlement where the wargs had been seen for the last time. Given the less than ideal circumstances, Tauriel would have proceeded differently, but she could not argue with the prince in the presence of six other guards.

She and Legolas went further west and advanced deep into an uninhabited and particularly inhospitable part of the forest. The air smelled even fouler than in most areas and the trees were covered in strange parasite vegetation of all but unnatural colours. All in all, the ultimate feel-good place for wargs, Tauriel reasoned and checked the position of her bow and daggers once more.

She pulled her foot out of a muddy puddle that gave a disgusting squelch. She did not mind though, in fact she even counted her blessings for being on this mission.

Assignments like this one had become her daily business. On many occasions her success had convinced the captain as well as the prince that she was their best bet when they needed a risky mission to be carried out discretely and efficiently. Roaming the forest and tracking down intruders was something she had always been good at, and despite getting dirty and cold and bored sometimes, she liked that sort of task much better than the more representative part of guard duty. Standing in the throne room in parade armour while the king was holding audiences or accompanying him on official visits was Tauriel's personal nightmare because she never managed to get through those endless hours without at least one inappropriate incident that could range from a loud sneeze in the wrong moment to a premature assault on a guest who only wanted to greet the king with a heartfelt embrace. Fortunately the trees in the forest did not insist on any strict code of behaviour and neither did the spiders, orcs and wargs that Tauriel encountered there.

Legolas, who was walking on her right, suddenly froze and signalled her to stop. Tauriel held her breath and threw him a questioning look. With a jerk of his head he indicated the direction where he had heard a suspicious noise and Tauriel reached for her bow. The branches of the elder bushes only a few steps ahead of them started rustling and the sound of an animal breathing heavily could be heard. Tauriel felt her own heartbeat in her throat and her nerves got as tense as her bowstring. A flicker of grey fur flashed behind the elder bushes. 'So we meet at last,' Tauriel stated to herself while tightening her grip around the bow and drawing an arrow.

She exchanged another look with Legolas and slowly, very slowly, they started to move forward. They did not need words to communicate in that kind of situation because both of them knew exactly what they were doing and had been hunting together for long enough to anticipate each other's every step. The rustling did not sound so near anymore. Legolas found a gap between the elder bushes and bowed his head to Tauriel in ironic politeness. He bent the branches, pretending to hold a door open for her. She grinned and rolled her eyes, remembering that this time it was indeed her turn to go first after Legolas had entered a spider nest before her a few weeks earlier.

She squeezed through the gap, glad that it was just elder bushes instead of anything thorny, but wrinkling her nose a little at the sticky brown liquid that dripped onto her shoulder from a strangely shaped bud right above her. Legolas followed her through the gap and they found themselves in the middle of a field of thick but low shrubbery. The awful smell and the pieces of grey and brown fur clinging to bushes and tree trunks indicated that they had probably discovered the warg pack's sleeping place. Tauriel listened to the sounds of the forest and could distinguish something that she thought to be animals' footsteps. She gestured at Legolas and started following the noise.

She had not taken more than ten steps when a loud growl made her freeze and raise her bow. An instant later a huge dark grey creature burst out of the shadows and bared its yellow teeth at her. Before Tauriel could release her own shot, she heard a buzz next to her left ear and saw the warg collapse right in front of her, an arrow sticking out of its eye. "I could have done this myself!" she hissed, but the growing rustles and growls around them indicated that she would get her next chance soon enough. Indeed it did not even take ten seconds until more wargs emerged between the trees. Tauriel counted fourteen and thought it wise to call for assistance before she started shooting, so she imitated a grey owl's whistle while aiming at a warg with particularly dishevelled and bristly fur. The arrow left her bow, but the creature was more intelligent than she had anticipated. It took a step aside, avoided the arrow and attacked her in return with one giant leap.

Tauriel felt rough paws on her shoulders and barely had time to draw her daggers before she felt the beast's warm stinking breath on her face. 'You should have chewed some herbs once in a while,' she thought, thrust her dagger into its fur-covered ribcage and twisted it until the beast gave a shriek and slumped to the ground. To her relief she saw Legolas still on his feet and shooting one attacker after another. Tauriel took up her bow again and joined him, bringing down two more wargs before she saw four of their comrades burst out of the shadows.

The sight of the additional enemies seemed to scare the seven remaining beasts enough to make them start howling angrily and retreat into the coppice. Tauriel lowered her bow and caught her breath. The warg's claws had cut through one of her sleeves and left a bleeding scratch mark on her upper arm, but there was no time to worry about that sort of minor problems now.

"They went off in direction of the settlement," Tauriel observed. A frown that could be translated to 'Of course, what else?' appeared on Legolas's face. "After them!" he commanded and took a few steps forward – and then Tauriel and the four guards witnessed something none of them had ever seen in their entire elven lives: The prince of the Woodland Realm stumbled over a tree root and fell face first, just like that, as if he were nothing but a clumsy mortal man! And if that was not enough, he even managed to hit his knee on a stone or another root or whatever it was – Tauriel did not want to know. She just stood there for a moment and stared at him. The faces of the other soldiers reflected an equal amount of astonishment and none of them knew where to look or what to do in this awkward situation. Who had ever seen an Elda trip over a root and bury his face in the mud?

Legolas pushed himself up and tried hard to hide his embarrassment behind a slightly moronic grin. He made an attempt to get on his feet – only to freeze right in the middle of the movement before sinking back down, silently, but his face contorted with pain. "Uhm, Leg-… Your highness?" Tauriel addressed him hesitantly and knelt down next to him. "Eru, that hurts," he uttered behind gritted teeth and stretched out his left leg, rubbing his knee. Tauriel struggled to suppress a disbelieving frown. "Shall I… help you up?" she offered and hoped fiercely that her voice sounded a least half as patient as it should. There were seven bloodthirsty wargs to be caught, for Orome's sake, and if they did not take up pursuit soon, the beasts would probably vanish again for several days!

Legolas gave her a half grateful, half angry grumble and leaned on her arm while getting up. Very carefully he tried to put his weight on his left leg, but at some point it gave way and he would have fallen again if it had not been for Tauriel's supporting arm. "The Valar know how much I hate myself right now, but it looks like you have to go after them without me," he stated and bit his tongue, "The unit is all yours, cornet." "Well, we're not leaving you here on your own," Tauriel gave back and added to the soldiers, "Who wants to to stay with the prince?" She looked into four clueless faces and the next moment she wanted to slap herself. There they were again, her non-existent leadership qualities...

Before she could correct her mistake and simply appoint one of them to stay, the call of a grey owl violently interrupted her train of thought. She threw an indecisive look in the direction where it had come from, then another at Legolas and the guards. Suddenly the whole situation seemed utterly absurd to her. A completely inadequate unit, an injured prince, a warg pack on the loose - and Tauriel in the middle of everything, her rank forcing her to assume responsibility for the outcome of this whole Eru-forsaken mess! Both despair and defiance entered her mind to engage in a short but cruel battle.

Not more than a second later, one of them fell shattered into the depths of her conscience. Tauriel straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat and said firmly, "You," she looked at the soldier closest to Legolas, "stay with the prince." He gave her a frown and replied sceptically, "But the rules say that every force available has to be mobilised in case of an emergen-..." Tauriel interrupted him with a wave of her hand. Maybe it was the frustration that had accumulated inside her during the last few days, or her worry about Legolas, or the fact that there were twenty villagers close by who could be attacked by some wild beasts in this very moment, or maybe it was simply the anger at the soldier's impertinent response – she did not know where it came from, but all of a sudden she felt a glowing ball of pure strength form in her chest. She looked at the guard, took a deep breath and said in a voice that was so calm and determined that it almost scared herself, "You heard me. You two won't move until we come back to get you. The rest of you," she turned to the other three guards, "follow me!" With that she set off into the coppice, not looking back to check if they were indeed coming after her because for some reason she already knew that they were.

* * *

The prince had been lingering around the courtyard as casually as he could for quite some time before he finally saw the patrol unit pass the main gate. He threw a quick look at Tauriel and she returned an icy glare. Legolas grinned to himself. Her effort to be angry at him since the day of the hunting party was too hilarious to be taken seriously.

It was true, Legolas had resorted to a fairly unconventional method in order to give her some realistic practice in leadership. His pretended fall and the make-believe injury had been quite a challenge for his acting skills and he could not help but be a little proud of his theatrical performance. The hardest part had been to keep up the limp during the whole way home and its gradual reduction over the following days. The rumours that had spread about the prince's disgraceful accident had been rather inconvenient and even his father had made one or two snide remarks about the matter over dinner, but Legolas had borne it bravely because the truth would have been even more awkward to explain. Eventually Tauriel had suspected something and he had made the mistake of admitting his manoeuvre to her in a moment of poor judgement. Since then she preferred not to speak to him, but he could see that the reason for it was merely her pride and not so much her actual opinion about his little trick.

All in all, he was satisfied with the outcome of his well-meant deceit. Tauriel had done excellently as a provisional commander and the rest of the warg pack had been eliminated without further difficulty. Sending six of the most unsuitable soldiers of the whole Woodland guard on such a sensitive mission had been quite a gamble, he could not deny that. But still, his trust in Tauriel had paid off. He knew that taking her out of her comfort zone and putting a little healthy amount of pressure on her was the best way to obtain maximum performance from her. Granted, making her believe that she was solely responsible for the safety of a village threatened by wargs might have been a slight exaggeration, but after all the end justified the means.

In this case, the end was something that Tauriel herself was not aware of yet but was just about to find out. Legolas had known it for a few days and was impressed by himself for being so discreet about it. Truth be told, he had dropped a few hints, just to see how she would react to them, but her less than enthusiastic attitude had silenced him soon enough. In fact, the whole reason for his act in the forest had been Tauriel's unfavourable view of what would happen to her in just a few minutes.

Legolas waited until Tauriel had dismissed her four guards, then he approached her with a somewhat awkward smile. "Good evening," he greeted her casually and was rewarded with a frown. "I'm not talking to you," she gave back, obviously struggling to maintain her grim expression. "Very well then, I do deserve your resentment," he admitted with a smirk, "But the captain wants to see you, he's already expecting you in the office." In his head he added, 'After you hear his news, you'll probably have one more reason to be angry with me.' Tauriel nodded shortly and started her way to the captain's office while Legolas resumed his air of nonchalance and decided to wait for her in the courtyard.

Half an hour passed until she came back out, looking confused, scared and excited all at once. She walked towards him and stared at him in silence for a good while. Finally she asked, "You knew about this, didn't you?" Legolas slowly tilted his head. "I did. But I swear in the name of Manwe that it was the captain's idea!" Tauriel gave him another long and painful glare before a grin spread over her face. "I don't guarantee for anything. The southern division may very likely descend into complete and utter chaos with me in charge of it. You'll certainly hear me complain a lot." Legolas just laughed and replied, "Complain all you want, I'm still looking forward to working with you, lieutenant."


	14. Brown Apple Seeds

_Hi everyone! _

_Thanks for still being around after 54,248 words – you are the most wonderful readers I could wish for. And thank you for all your sweet, encouraging reviews. _

_If you have anything in mind that you would like to read in this story, please tell me. (Am I sounding like I'm running out of ideas of my own after 14 chapters? Nooo, of course not… :D ) But seriously: I have the rest of the main plot figured out and there is still A LOT to come, but requests and suggestions for interesting details (or plot twists, muahaha!) are very welcome._

_With this chapter we're officially entering the realm of elven soap opera. I hope you're in the mood for some gooey forbidden romance and lots of drama._

* * *

The heads of the three lieutenants turned to the door in one synchronised movement when Tauriel entered the office. She was soaking wet, her hair was full of tree bark and cobweb and her boots left a muddy trace on the stone floor. The lieutenants slowly assessed her from head to toe, disdain dripping from their faces like the rain water from Tauriel's uniform. Obviously none of them had been in the forest during the cloudburst that was currently drowning the Woodelves' plans of celebrating Mettare, the last day of the old year, and Yestare, the beginning of the new one, with a large feast in the courtyard. The lieutenants looked perfectly dry, prim and proper and were apparently hoping for this weekly meeting to be over as soon as possible. Tauriel could not blame them; these routine gatherings were a tiresome and rather pointless necessity imposed on them by the captain – who was not even with them that afternoon due to a journey.

"Look who has decided to grace us with her presence," was the grumbled welcome that came from Orchalon, lieutenant of the forest guard, who had never bothered to conceal his dislike for Tauriel since she had taken his good friend Glorendir's place. She had stopped minding a while ago because she understood that his resentment was caused by grief, although she thought it quite unjust and unprofessional of him to blame her for something she had never chosen. She gave him a cold smile and replied to all of them, "I apologise for keeping you waiting. In my defence, I have the longest way to the palace." 'And unlike you, I actually stayed on my post till the end of my shift,' she added in her mind. With that she claimed the last empty seat, put that week's journal on the table in front of her and threw an expectant look at Alation, the leader of the palace guard, who was going to chair the meeting.

He seemed rather distracted by the state Tauriel was in. He glanced worriedly at her wet hair and her dripping uniform and offered, "Shall I have a soldier fetch you a towel? It cannot be agreeable – nor healthy – to sit around in such wet clothes." Tauriel's jaw almost dropped while she noticed the other two lieutenants frown and grin respectively. "Thank you, I'm fine," she managed to answer and asked herself when Alation would finally stop treating her like some sort of delicate artwork that had to be handled with kid gloves or else it would break. Had he really never dealt with a female lieutenant before? Or was it the fact that she was so much younger than him that prompted his protective instinct? Truth be told, it made Tauriel furious. Nevertheless she forced her face to a reassuring smile.

"Very well then, I believe it is in everyone's interest to keep this short and simple," Alation finally began, arranging his pile of paper and dipping his quill into the inkwell. Orchalon contributed grimly, "Indeed it is, after waiting half an hour…" He glared at Tauriel, gaining himself an elbow nudge from the lieutenant of the northern border guard division, named Tuven, who was sitting next to him. "Where are your manners, mellon? That's not how you address a lady," he whispered to his comrade, deliberately speaking loud enough for Tauriel to hear and with a fairly improper smirk on his face. She ignored him as best she could and exchanged an ironic look of silent suffering with Alation, who proceeded as if nothing had happened.

"If there are no urgent issues to be discussed," he paused, looking at his comrades one after another, "which does not seem to be the case, then I suggest we move right on to the weekly reports." Three approving nods made him continue, "I'll take the liberty to start with the palace guard: There were no alarming incidents at the gates, including the watergate and the underground passages. The palace's surroundings are clear and tonight's festivities will be secured by us in a one mile radius, as usual." He looked up from his journal and addressed Orchalon, "Which reminds me: I could use five additional men at the settlement near the Lower Crossroads for the next two days." "Five?" Orchalon gave back reproachfully, "I can give you two… fine, three. But this is the last time, you need to administer your resources properly!" He shook his head, mumbled something along the lines of 'spoiled Sinda palace guard, hasn't seen a spider in a thousand years' and scribbled a note in his journal. Alation smiled and bowed his head gracefully, "I appreciate your favour, mellon nin. Now, shall we proceed to the northern division?"

Tuven cleared his throat and recited lazily, "Two goblin attacks at the Western Watch Post, probably from Hithaeglir, all intruders removed, no damage among the guards." After a short pause he added, as if he was just recalling it, "Oh, and there was a troll wandering the Old Path, but we left him alone because we saw him drink from the Stream of Oblivion and figured that the problem would solve itself sooner or later." He closed his journal and leaned back in his chair.

Alation acknowledged Tuven's contribution with a nod and turned the floor over to Orchalon. To no one's surprise he started grumbling again immediately, "That troll you let run loose was spotted by a hunter and caused a veritable outrage amongst the villagers. When we found him, he was sound asleep right in the middle of the Old Path – have you ever tried to move an unconscious mountain troll? One of my soldiers pulled his back trying to lift one of his legs." Tuven suppressed a smirk, which Tauriel found very uncomradely until she noticed that the corners of her own mouth had not stayed where they belonged either. "I don't find that half as amusing as you do. Next time get rid of your own trolls!" Orchalon snarled at Tuven. Fortunately he had not noticed Tauriel's grin.

Before he could talk himself into a rage, Alation intervened decidedly, "Calm yourselves! Have there been any more incidents you wish to report, Orchalon?" The forest guard lieutenant shook his head and stated somewhat reluctantly, "No, nothing. Surprisingly we did not encounter many spiders. Usually, during the spring, there are at least two swarms per month that try to enter our zone from the South, but for the last five weeks there has not been a single new nest. We have only had to deal with the existing ones. They seem to be late this year."

Tauriel managed to hold her tongue in the very last moment. The spiders were not late, nor were they particularly scarce that spring. She touched the bandage around her left forearm and concentrated on the texture of the linen in order to refrain from any misplaced but justified comments.

Alation, however, signalled her that it was her turn to give her report. She straightened her shoulders, threw another look at her journal and began, "The southern division eliminated three swarms of spiders this week, coming to a total count of twenty-eight beasts. None escaped, as far as we know. Two soldiers were slightly injured but they have already reported back for duty. The watch in the area closest to Dol Guldur has been doubled due to the increasing amount of spider activity during this time of the year." Tauriel paused, trying not to look at Orchalon.

"You doubled the watch?" Tuven inquired, "I assume your troops will need temporary reinforcement from my division then?" Tauriel shook her head, slightly surprised, "No, actually… I didn't even know that was an option… I thank you for your generous offer, but we manage. We are currently testing some changes in the distribution of the watch posts and it seems to work quite well so far."

Orchalon snorted, "Already changing your predecessor's system, are you? After only two months." At first Tauriel was not sure she had heard him right, but then the only way she could stop herself from returning a snide remark was to bury her fingernails in the softwood of the tabletop. She took a deep breath, and yet after weeks of swallowing Orchalon's subtextual insults, she could not refrain from replying, "If you insist, I will be happy to go back to the old system and let the forest guard deal with all the spiders in spring fever again."

The silence in the office was thick enough to be sliced. Tauriel suddenly regretted her boldness; after all Orchalon had already been a lieutenant when she had served as nothing but a little recruit. She bit her tongue, looking around nervously. Tuven made a grimace that was undoubtedly meant as a curtsy to the painful truth that Tauriel had just thrown into Orchalon's face. She could very well have gone without that sort of appreciation. The forest guard lieutenant himself did not bat an eye but she could see his cheeks flush crimson. If it was fury or embarrassment or both, she could not and did not wish to tell.

Tauriel added hesitantly, "I would never doubt Lieutenant Glorendir's ability. I am simply observing that his methods come from a time when the spider infestation in the South was not half as drastic as it is now…" "And what would you know about that?" Orchalon interrupted her harshly. Alation raised his hand to reach for his comrade's arm, but then he stopped in the middle of the movement and drew it back. Tauriel made an effort to sound calm and confident when she answered, "Not much, I suppose. Only that I was born in the last settlement that lay beyond the current Southern Demarcation Line. Even around the time of its destruction there were never as many spiders in that area as there are now."

Orchalon grumbled something unintelligible once again, Tuven was playing with his quill and Alation was very busy examining his journal. 'For Eru's sake,' Tauriel thought, 'I've said so many stupid things in front of these people. I'm not going to apologise for being right this one time!' She leaned back in her chair, unwilling to make any more offers of peace. To break the awkward silence, Alation cleared his throat and said, "Are there any more subjects concerning the southern division?"

Tauriel suddenly recalled something she had wanted to bring up at this week's meeting, but now, given the less than ideal situation, she doubted whether it would be wise to ask for her comrades' advice on such a sensitive topic. On the other hand, it really was an urgent issue. So she plucked up her courage and said, "In fact, there is one matter in which I would like to ask your council." Alation raised his eyebrows and gave her a slow nod as an invitation to continue.

"I was wondering how you would proceed in case of a… disciplinary issue." There it was, she had said it. Although she already felt much more at home in her position as a commander, there were still some soldiers who challenged her authority on a regular basis and she had no idea how to resolve that issue. Nevertheless she did not feel comfortable at all admitting that problem to her fellow officers. Orchalon looked as if he was going to shout 'I knew she couldn't handle her division!' any moment – and she granted him that little triumph after the earlier humiliation – Tuven only tilted his head curiously and Alation seemed very eager to assume the role of a mentor.

"What kind of disciplinary issues?" he asked very patiently and leaned forward on his chair. Tauriel could have stabbed him for it but she replied politely, "I introd-…, reinforced a rule that strictly prohibits any type of liquor and hallucinogenic mushrooms or herbs during duty. Now there are some soldiers who are unwilling to obey this rule." She looked at her comrades and could not have been more astonished at their reactions.

Tuven was the first to answer. "You don't allow your soldiers a sip of wine once in a while?" "What? Of course not!" Tauriel gave back, bewildered. He started grinning. "Well, here's yet another reason why everybody is scared to end up in the southern division. Not only is it close to Dol Guldur and the place is full of creatures that want to eat you, now there is also a morally impeccable lieutenant." Tauriel frowned. "You mean you allow…" "Most certainly I do." There was not the slightest hint of embarrassment in his voice.

She turned to Alation, convinced that the conservative palace guard would offer more helpful advice. To her relief he threw a disapproving glare at Tuven and said, "If they were my soldiers, I would conduct occasional unannounced controls and put anyone who carries a questionable substance on a particularly unpopular watch post for a week." He seemed very satisfied with his ultimate solution, but Orchalon only snorted and pointed out, "That may work in your cosy palace where you have all your soldiers comfortably gathered at arm's length. In the forest you can't control anything. Besides, what 'particularly unpopular watch posts' should there be?" Tauriel saw Alation's jaw clench – in the utmost elegance, of course. "Then what is your suggestion?" he asked, slightly piqued.

Orchalon shrugged. "Throw them in the dirt one by one and smash their Eru-forsaken bottles on their heads until they think straight again." Tauriel gasped unwillingly, which made Tuven address her, "If you decide to try that, please make sure to let me know. I would be very sorry to miss it." Everyone deemed it appropriate to simply ignore his remark.

Tauriel forced her face to smile despite the all but useless advice she had received. "Well, thank you for your opinions. That was all I wanted to know." She looked at Alation, and so did the other two officers. He took up his quill once again and said, "As far as I can see, this concludes our meeting – given that no one…" "No!" Tuven interjected quite rudely, but nobody minded.

So the four lieutenants collected their paperwork and left the office one after another. On the way out Tauriel found herself next to Tuven, who bent down to her and asked quietly, "So, are you going to be at the feast tonight?" She nodded as casually as she could. "I'll look out for you," Tuven announced, "I'm curious to see you in a dress. Preferably in a dry one – although…" His glance at certain parts of her wet uniform reflected nothing but the sincerest appreciation. Tauriel allowed her mouth to smirk for a second, but then she quickly corrected herself by saying, "You wanted me to try out Orchalon's disciplinary method, didn't you? Right now I would love to test it on you." It took him a second to grasp her meaning, but then the smug grin on his face slowly froze. "Fine, dry dress it is," he relented. Tauriel gave him her most charmingly evil smile and took a mental note never to let Legolas hear him talk to her like that.

Alation shooed Tuven away and said to her, "Don't mind him. In fact, don't mind the two of them." He made a particular fatherly face when he gestured subtly over to Orchalon, who was walking away without a word, and continued under his breath, "Orchalon is not as unfriendly as he pretends, he is just under a lot of emotional strain so shortly after Glorendir found such a particularly dreadful death. They were almost like brothers." "I understand him," Tauriel affirmed, "It must be hard for all of you to get used to a new comrade in this situation." "I should say you make a rather pleasant new comrade," he remarked graciously, "If you ever need any more advice, don't hesitate to ask." "Thank you, I appreciate it," Tauriel replied. Before he left Alation pointed his finger at her and added with a worried expression, "Now you should really put on some dry clothes." 'Yes, Ada,' Tauriel gave back in her mind. She obliged him with a nod and a polite smile and hurried off.

* * *

Fortunately for the people at the Woodland Palace, the torrential rain had stopped and did not prevent the feast from taking place outdoors. Tables and benches had been set up in the courtyard and the clutter of voices and music was getting louder and merrier with every glass of Dorwinion that was consumed. Tauriel had watched the king perform the traditional ceremony of bidding the old year goodbye and welcoming the new one, then she had shared a comradely drink with the lieutenants – not failing to accept Tuven's rather straightforward compliment on her dress by giving him a friendly kick in the shin – and finally she had taken the opportunity to spend some time with an old friend she hardly saw anymore.

"So, how are you getting along with the other lieutenants?" Sidhril asked curiously from across the table through a mouthful of pastry. Tauriel assessed her ironically. After sharing the most important news and forest guard gossip, Sidhril had immediately started eating at an impressive speed. "Excuse me, I haven't eaten anything all day" she explained, now altering between the three tasks of speaking, chewing and laughing, "I came back from patrol two hours ago." Tauriel nodded, pretending not to be half as amused as she was, and tried to simplify the situation for her friend by answering her question, "The lieutenants – let's say that each of them is unique in his own way. They have been with the guard for a long time, so I guess it's normal to get slightly… eccentric." She took a sip of Dorwinion to avoid giving more details. Sidhril had managed to swallow the rest of her pastry and threw a questioning look at her, obviously unwilling to content herself with the amount of information.

Tauriel sighed. "Fine! To be honest, they don't even pretend to take me seriously and I can't blame them. I must look like an impertinent little upstart to them. One of them openly despises me..." "That must be Orchalon!" Sidhril exclaimed like an elfling who was proud to know the answer to a riddle. Tauriel laughed and nodded. Who, if not her friend, should be familiar with the quirks of the forest guard lieutenant? "If it did not sound far too poetic for that grumpy old bear," Sidhril stated, "I would say that we equally love and fear him in the forest guard. Last week he verbally compressed Fiondir to the size of a mushroom. I'm telling you, I almost pitied him, but then again he deserved it because of the way he talks to our new recruit sometimes."

Tauriel frowned and remembered, "Right, the recruit! How is he doing?" "I'm keeping an eye on him," Sidhril assured her, "He's quite good, except for getting insanely nervous whenever he has to shoot an arrow in Fiondir's presence. I don't underst-…" "Who knows?" Tauriel interrupted her hectically, "Those young soldiers are irritable sometimes, it's normal…" She shrugged and took another distracting sip of wine, begging every Vala to take Sidhril's mind off the subject.

"So, what about the other two lieutenants?" Sidhril's change of topic made Tauriel put down her glass in relief and continue, "Alation treats me like something between a precious crystal vase and his favourite grandchild. It's sweet and disturbing at the same time. And Tuven, well, I can't think of any morally acceptable word to describe him. Still, when he gets past his philanderer moods, he's the only one of the three who occasionally talks to me as an equal."

Sidhril's frown had deepened with every word Tauriel had spoken. She laughed and quickly reassured her astonished friend, "Don't worry, it's not half as bad as it sounds. I think they're decent fellows, I just need to prove to them that I'm worthy of my new position." "And you will," Sidhril stated confidently, "Give it some time and you'll see. You're doing great so far. The tale of your 'no liquor, no mushrooms, no herbs' campaign has already spread and reached the forest guard. Everyone in our unit, including Fiondir, laughed their eartips off when those two frustrated border guards complained about your strictness."

"What?" Tauriel almost dropped the pear she had started to eat. "That's not good, I want them to like me. Maybe I shouldn't…" "Don't you back down now!" Sidhril interjected firmly, pointing her finger at Tauriel, "It would be the worst thing you could do. If you want to gain their respect, now is the time. A little abstinence during duty won't kill them, after all we have to survive our shifts on water and lembas as well and nobody cares how cold or bored we get out there. Those border guard clowns should pull themselves together for once…" "Sidhril, calm down, I'm getting your point!" Tauriel stopped her wildly gesturing friend before she could get herself more wrought up.

The subtle rivalry between the different guard divisions was nothing but a funny quarrel that no one took seriously, although it was talked up to a most severe hereditary enmity. To tell the truth, Tauriel was looking forward to changing sides and challenge sharp-tongued Sidhril to a little forest guard versus border guard duel once in a while. She grinned at the prospect and did not try to stop her friend this time as she muttered on, "Those southern border guards have always irritated me, I don't know – maybe it's the constant proximity of Dol Guldur that makes them a little strange…" "I could be like them in a few decades," Tauriel pointed out, taking another bite of her pear.

Sidhril grimaced and shook her head, but before she could beg her friend not to turn into a 'border guard clown', she looked up and signalled Tauriel to turn around. So she did, and what she saw instantly made her tilt her head and frown. Legolas came walking towards them, his face absolutely blank and his footsteps as heavy as those of a dwarf in full armour. When he had reached their table, he tapped Tauriel on the shoulder as a request to slide over on the bench, sat down next to her, emptied her glass of wine without so much of a word and dropped his head in his hands.

Tauriel and Sidhril exchanged a look of bewilderment. Sidhril opened her mouth to address him, but Tauriel silenced her with a wave of her hand. "Let's not say anything," she whispered pretentiously, making sure that Legolas could hear every word, "If we're lucky, maybe he'll spontaneously start communicating with us." She winked at Sidhril, who tried very hard to hold back her chuckle.

'Thank Eru these two are finally getting along again,' Tauriel thought not for the first time. It had taken decades for Legolas and Sidhril to get past the awkward little intermezzo they now referred to as the ancient sword incident and Tauriel had sat through far too many conversations along the lines of 'How could I disregard her feelings and use her in such a despicable manner?' and 'I feel terrible for betraying his trust, I promised him not to tell you anything.' Fortunately those issues had been resolved, much to Tauriel's relief, because both of them had exaggerated a lot and her patience had started to run thin.

Finally a movement went through the slumped accumulation of silken robes and blond hair next to her. "Don't even ask!" Legolas' muffled voice emerged from behind his hands. He came back from his plunge and shook his head very slowly. "The king… Ugh, you know I hold him in very high regard, but sometimes…" He shrugged, rolled his eyes and fell silent again for a moment, earning himself a pitiful glance from Sidhril and a careful yet ironic attempt of solace from Tauriel. "Shall we talk about it or will another glass of wine do as well?" "The first one already helped a lot," he answered, allowing a grin to flash over his face, "By the way, sorry for the larceny." He nodded in direction of Tauriel's empty glass.

"Don't worry, there's plenty where that came from," she gave back, "Now will you tell us what happened?" "Do you really want to know?" Legolas asked hesitantly, looking back and forth between the two of them. Sidhril tried very hard not to show her curiosity, which made Tauriel chuckle once again. "Go on," she said to Legolas, "take Sidhril out of her misery!" Her friend looked very offended for a moment and grumbled something under her breath, but her frown faded as soon as Legolas began to talk.

"Very well then: Right after the ceremony my father started to set me up with potential partners for the spring dance because it's tradition and he didn't want to do it himself. Within the next hour I was forced to stand up with every noblewoman and every dignitary's wife in this whole palace – believe me, some of them are worse company than those drowned goblins you fished out of the river last week." He gestured at Sidhril, who grimaced at the memory of that less than agreeable operation. Tauriel gave him a pitiful yet sarcastic look. "Poor you!" she teased him and was rewarded with a poke in the ribs.

"How did you escape?" Sidhril wanted to know. Legolas leaned forward, suddenly looking like a common gossip instead of a dignified aristocrat. "A miracle saved me. After repeating the exact same polite small talk to one lady after another, I decided to stand up with someone I could have an actual conversation with for a change. Luckily I came across lady Nimiel." Tauriel smiled in surprise. "How nice! She loves dancing but she rarely gets the chance." "Yes, it was very nice," Legolas continued, "for about two minutes. You will never guess what happened next: My father walked up to us, told me off about not doing some ridiculous detail of that blasted spring dance right and cut in himself. I swear I haven't seen him dance voluntarily in a hundred years. Anyway, that's when I took the opportunity to make a quick disappearance."

Both Sidhril and Tauriel looked sincerely astonished. "Your father is dancing with my mother?" Tauriel assured herself, "I mean, I know they get along really well for some incomprehensible reason – no offence – but…?" "You know what," Sidhril interjected, grabbing her half-full glass and getting up, "I want to see this! You two can do without me, can't you?" She threw a meaningful grin at Tauriel, who rolled her eyes at her friend's somewhat obvious but no less sweet excuse to give them some privacy.

When Sidhril had vanished in the crowd, Tauriel and Legolas kept looking at each other in silent astonishment for another good while before the prince said, "You are aware that after all those ladies you won't be spared your share of dancing either, aren't you?" Tauriel gulped and replied sceptically, "Fine, but I'm not nearly drunk enough yet." "That can be helped," Legolas gave back, rose from the bench and pulled her up with him. Together they started to work their way through the noisy crowd to get some more wine.

* * *

Nimiel had not felt so many eyes on her since the unfortunate day she had accidentally lit her own hair on fire while brewing her very first bronchial tea. People were blatantly observing her and the king's dance, not even trying to hide their curiosity, and Nimiel was starting to feel uncomfortable. She fixed her eyes stoically upon the embroidery that adorned the king's collar in an attempt to ignore the impudent looks while also trying not to get distracted from the fairly complicated steps of the traditional spring dance.

"Has no one ever taught those people how rude it is to stare?" she whispered after a while, provoking a nearly unnoticeable shrug from the king. "You must understand them. As the head of the healing quarters you are a public figure," he gave back without the slightest hint of irony in his voice, therefore it took her a moment to understand that he was joking. She honoured him with a very graceful eye-rolling while thinking to herself, 'If you are in the mood to tease me, let me assure you that I can play this game just as well as you.'

She remarked casually, "My lord, I have to admit I am surprised at you." "Why is that?" it came back, along with a gentle pull that prevented Nimiel from bumping into another couple behind her. She wanted to turn around and glare at them, but she stopped herself and replied, "Seizing your own son's partner instead of asking a lady yourself? I do not recall when that tactic was included in the court protocol." "Am I to understand this as a complaint?" "Not necessarily," Nimiel said and followed the step sequence into a slow circle around the king.

Letting go of his hand made her realise how strange it had felt to hold it; secure and frightening at the same time and certainly imposing enough to leave her in no doubt of who was leading whom. When the administration of the houses of healing was concerned, at least he had the decency to disguise his orders as friendly requests. In this dance, however, Nimiel felt politely but mercilessly pushed around without any chance of resistance. This unfamiliar subjection irritated her, but she did not dislike it half as much as she thought she should.

The general chaos on the dance floor forced her to awkwardly squeeze her way through the next two or three movements, until her uncomfortable grimace made the king remark, "This is all but unbearable. It reminds me why I usually do not care much for dancing. Shall we have a seat?" Nimiel threw a quick glance over her shoulder and could not help but agree, "It is quite crowded. Although…" She did not get the chance to finish her objection because the king had already taken her by the arm and was manoeuvring them out of the tumult and leading her to his table.

When Galion saw them approach, he quickly pulled out a chair for Nimiel, produced a glass seemingly out of nowhere and filled it with lemonade from a carafe on the table, which he knew she liked. She thanked him and took the opportunity to wish him all the best for the new year before he politely retreated to the background again. From there he observed the king's guests at their tables in order to intervene whenever they ran out of drink or required something else. Nimiel counted her blessings for not having to trade places with him and mentioned it to the king. He acknowledged her concern but objected, "Your compassion honours you, my lady, but whatever he may tell you, old Galion does not exactly drown in work during the rest of the year. He does not fit the common image of a dictator, yet he commands the other servants like an army and can be quite a slave driver. It is most fascinating to observe." The king smirked and took a sip from his glass – Nimiel noticed gladly that he was drinking apple cider instead of wine, which was always an indicator for him being in a good mood.

"But before I forget," he gestured in direction of the dance floor, "I interrupted your remark by dragging you out of this infernal chaos – a rudeness for which I apologise. So, you were saying?" Nimiel answered, "Nothing of importance. I was merely pointing out that, despite the unfavourable conditions, leaving the spring dance unfinished is said to bring ill luck." Thranduil raised an eyebrow and assessed her in astonishment. "Of all people in the world, you were the very last one whom I would have thought capable of such superstition. Since when do you believe in old wives' tales?" He looked almost reproachful while asking the question and Nimiel could not help but be a little amused. "There is a reason why the dance has been unchanged since the First Age. It symbolises the awakening of spring and we just stopped right in the deepest winter," she explained, not even making an effort to hide the fact that she was blatantly teasing him.

The king leaned back in his chair and gave her an exhausted look. "The reason why the dance has never been changed is the fact that there is no better way of torturing generations of school children. It has been six thousand years, but I still remember how much I loathed it. And so did my son, as far as I recall – well, you just saw the result of his lacking enthusiasm for yourself." Nimiel shook her head energetically, feeling the genuine urge as well as the moral obligation to defend Legolas. "He did very well, I assure you, and I wish you were a little more indulgent." She glanced at him determinedly, although the sudden memory of a sixty-five year old Tauriel coming home from a dance lesson with a broken toe almost made her agree with his judgement. To distract him from the subject of poor Legolas she quickly added, "However, superstition or not, your notion of tradition is very prosaic, my lord."

One look into the king's face was enough for Nimiel to know that she had just involuntarily offered him a challenge which he was glad to accept. No wonder, she thought, there were not many people who dared to question his opinions and over the years it certainly became very dull to be right all the time.

Thranduil assessed Nimiel thoroughly for a while before he inquired in an almost patronising tone that made her curse her decorous upbringing, "Do not tell me you also carry apple seeds in your pocket during Mettare and believe that throwing them into a pond within the first hour of Yestare grants a prosperous new year." He frowned at her ironically, only to let his eyes widen in utter disbelief when she did indeed produce a dozen of said traditional lucky charms and placed them on the table without so much of a word. "You cannot be serious." The amusement on his face was paired with an apparent, although pretended, concern for her sanity that gave Nimiel the urge to poison his cider with a laxative.

"All I am saying is that it has worked for me before," she pointed out as solemnly as she could, "It is a pity that I have to content myself with the river as there is no real pond close to the palace." Suddenly the king's expression changed from a sarcastic frown to a conspiratorial smirk. "Oh, but there is. In fact, I hereby challenge you to prove your theory." He rose from his chair and held out his hand as a request for her to do the same. Now Nimiel was thoroughly confused. What kind of cider had he been drinking all night? "My lord," she replied very slowly and clearly, as if she were speaking to a patient who had just awoken from a coma, "your palace has no ponds." The king let out a deep breath and gave back, "My dear lady Nimiel, do you not believe me capable of knowing my own halls? If I can find bluebells in Greenwood, I may also find a pond. You will not back down from a wager, will you?"

'By Elbereth, what have I done to deserve this?' Nimiel thought to herself and got up with a sigh and a very expressive eye-rolling while deliberately ignoring his hand. "Very well then, lead the way."

When she followed the king through the dark subterranean corridor that led to the lowest level of the palace, Nimiel could not help but ask herself what in Eru's name she was doing. Their leaving had not gone unnoticed and, although concerns of that kind were not like her, she wondered what people might think of it. She had no idea what Thranduil was playing at – obviously he was up to something unexpected because there simply was no pond in the palace where she could drown her stupid apple seeds. She was glad to see him in such an unusually light-hearted mood, but she was not sure if she felt comfortable being immediately affected by it.

They turned left into an even darker passage where Nimiel could vaguely distinguish a wooden door. After a few steps her heart skipped a beat at the sight of a watchman jumping out of the shadows with an impressive spear in his hand. "Halt! No entr-…" he said firmly but the king interrupted him impatiently, "Take that spear out of my face and unlock the door." Although Nimiel could not see it in the dark, she was sure that the poor fellow, who was only doing his duty, shrunk to the size of a dwarf at the sound of the king's intimidating voice. She pitied the man for having to stand around alone in the dark while his family and friends were probably enjoying the feast.

"I apologise, my lord," the guard mumbled and fulfilled the order as quickly as he could. They stepped through the door – Nimiel literally felt the soldier's confused look on her as she walked past him and counted her blessings that it was not Tauriel – and entered an ample cave illuminated by a few dim lanterns and filled with warm, humid air. It took her a moment to recognise the place, but then she remembered having been there once or twice before.

"This qualifies as a pond, does it not?" Thranduil asked and nodded in direction of a bubbling water basin. Nimiel crossed her arms and gave him a disbelieving look. "I am not throwing apple seeds into your hot spring." Despite her effort she could not refrain from laughing. The king held out his palm. "Then I will try my luck if you will kindly oblige me." Astonished, she gave him some seeds and said, "I thought you did not believe in superstition? Besides, what wish could a modest apple seed grant the king of the Woodland Realm?" He stepped to the edge of the pool and answered, "Probably none, but it cannot do any harm, can it?"

He dropped the apple seeds one after another, watching as they vanished in the bubbling water. After that he fell silent for a long time, absorbed in his own thoughts, and Nimiel did not want to disturb his contemplation. Finally he said without turning around to face her, "My cousins and I used to do this as children. We made ridiculous wishes and told ourselves that it was due to the apple seeds whenever one of them came true by chance. Once I wished for us to stay together for all eternity. Now I am the only one left to wander this earth."

He stood immobile like a statue, staring into the water. Nimiel felt a lump in her throat as she was reminded of the fate both of them shared: to be the ones who had lasted while their loved ones had journeyed to faraway shores or to another world. She could not say anything to comfort him and she knew there was no need to. It was a fate they had accepted long ago and although there had always been a choice, they had decided to stay.

Eventually Nimiel said, "The trees are beginning to blossom once again and two days ago one of my fellow healers had a child, a healthy little girl." She walked up to the king and looked up at him. "This world is full of beauty and it is worth for us to stay, my lord, even though in the past it has done its best to convince us otherwise."

She took the rest of the apple seeds out of her pocket and threw them into the water one by one. The king waited quietly until the last one had drowned in the dark water, then he held out his hand and asked with a nearly invisible smile, "Would you like to finish the spring dance? There is plenty of room here." Nimiel glanced at him in astonishment, but she accepted the offer and followed him to the middle of the cave.

At first it was odd to dance without music, but soon the soothing sound of the water and the echo of their own light footsteps on the stone floor proved to be a perfect substitute. They continued the spring dance where they had interrupted it before and when they were done, they started all over again. Nimiel did not even mind being led this time. After the last movement they stayed immobile for a while, hand in hand, knowing that a third dance would definitely exceed the boundaries of decency but unwilling to end this strangely enchanting moment.

"I had almost forgotten your eyes were the colour of chestnuts," the king suddenly said and the unveiled surprise in his voice made Nimiel chuckle. "And I had almost forgotten the way your cheek twitches when you smile – you should remind me more often," she replied. He immediately fulfilled her request, willingly or not, and added, "Then maybe you should dance with me more often."

He let go of her hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her face that had gone damp in the humid air of the cave. The little warm touch made a thousand thoughts race through Nimiel's mind. All of a sudden she felt a burning hot sting right in the middle of her heart. Arasdaer. He was not even gone three hundred years. What would he think if he could see her like this? Had she not promised to love him for eternity, even beyond the borders of this world? And so she did. Not a day went by that she did not think of him, although the grief had slowly turned into loving memory over the years. And yet suddenly she was behaving like a silly young girl, not like the widow and mother that she was. What in Eru's name had gotten into her?

She turned her head and looked to the ground. "That may not be a good idea," she whispered, "It reminds me too much of Arasdaer. He was so fond of dancing." The king pulled back his hand and his posture went rigid. Nimiel looked up at him and for a second she saw her own feelings mirrored on his face, only a thousand times darker. "So was Merilissel," he said quietly.

After a moment of silence that seemed to last a century, Nimiel forced her face to an awkward smile. "We should return to the courtyard, my lord." The king nodded and cleared his throat. "Yes, we should. After you, my lady."

* * *

"Your cheeks are as red as if you had chased a warg to Esgaroth on foot," Legolas remarked and gently but decidedly he took the glass out of Tauriel's hand, "I bet Galion brought out all the leftovers of the year to make room in the wine cellar." He sniffed the pink liquid and shook his head. "Eru, that's strong! My head already feels like a humming top." He set the glass on an empty table and leaned against it. They had found a more or less quiet spot near the entrance of the guard's quarters where no one minded the misusage of the table.

Tauriel chuckled and noticed that her voice sounded slightly more high-pitched than usually, so she thought it wiser to be quiet. It was true, the wine had tasted somewhat extraordinary, but the sight of a half-drunk Legolas made up for the spin in her head. "Your highness, mind your countenance!" she advised him with the sternest expression her face could produce. What came back was an unexpected and therefore very effective push that almost made her lose her balance in the less than vigilant state she was in. "What was that about?" she complained playfully, laughing at his effort to straighten up and look serious, "I request a little more professionalism, your highn-…"

She did not get the chance to finish her sentence because Legolas grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him faster than she could react. "Sorry, no professionalism available tonight," he whispered and made an attempt to kiss her. In the first moment Tauriel did not mind, but then the realisation that there were hundreds of people in the courtyard exploded in her dizzy mind like a thousand bright fireworks and abruptly cleared her thoughts. She pulled away and took a step backwards, glancing around nervously. As far as she could see, no one was looking their way.

"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed under her breath and glared at him, "A little discretion, maybe…?" Legolas sighed, scratching his head and looking confused. "To be honest, I'm tired of discretion," he gave back, but he kept the distance that Tauriel had just put between them.

She assessed him sceptically. Clearly it was the wine that made him speak like that, yet she sensed that it had merely provided the last gentle push to make him say something that had already been on his mind for a while. She came back towards him and said, "I know. So am I, but…" "But what? Don't you think we have reached a point where we could consider stopping this tiresome charade? You said yourself that it was an open secret anyway." His look was challenging and reassuring at once. "I don't mind an open secret as long as it's silently tolerated," Tauriel pointed out, wondering how easy it was to lie to herself when she had consumed enough wine, "What choice do we have? We cannot possibly make our relationship official." This time she tried particularly hard to keep her voice down because three people just came out of the guard's quarters and eyed them curiously. Legolas let them pass, then he asked, "And whyever not?"

Tauriel let out a deep breath. "Because we both know what 'making a relationship official' usually leads to, and that is obviously out of the question in our case." She crossed her arms defensively, forcing herself to fight back the all too familiar feeling of inferiority that accompanied any contemplation about her and Legolas' future. The prince took a moment to answer in which he seemed to ponder a thought. "Is it out of the question?" he finally gave back, looking straight into her eyes and making her want to burst into flames.

Tauriel begged all the Valar and Maiar and the Great Ilúvatar himself to give her enough strength to stay still and keep breathing steadily instead of running away and hiding in the deepest, darkest hole of Moria. They had never spoken about this subject before, although it was, of course, not the strangest of notions after being a couple for more than a century. However, when two Eldar decided to make their mutual affection known, they were as good as engaged. It was a logical consequence and nothing else was acceptable. There was a certain grey area of decency where society graciously turned a blind eye to couples who had not yet decided to go public, but prolonging and exploiting that period for as many years as Tauriel and Legolas had was extraordinary even by elven standards.

Tauriel swallowed the lump in her throat and replied hesitantly, "I-Is this supposed to be some sort of… proposal?" She felt her hand clasp the edge of the table, only to have something to hold on to. Speaking the word alone made every fibre in her body twitch. Legolas tilted his head and suddenly, much to Tauriel's bewilderment, he started laughing. "Judging by the terrified look on your face – which would be quite hurtful if I didn't know you as well as I do – I'm going to say no." He arched an eyebrow and added a little reproachfully, "Besides, seriously, do you think me capable of doing it like this? No, this is merely a request to know what we're dealing with, where we're going." After a pause he added, "We are going somewhere, aren't we?"

Tauriel took a deep breath and literally felt her bodily functions start working again. After staring at him for half an eternity, she figured that it was probably time for a reaction, so she finally muttered, "I don't know." It was the only honest answer she could provide, but when she saw Legolas' face almost fall apart, she realised that her clumsy reply must have sounded like a blatant refusal. She tried to explain, "I mean, of course I want to 'go somewhere' with you, but I can't see how it would work. A Sinda prince cannot pledge himself to a Silvan soldier, childhood friends or not. How do you imagine breaking this to your father? He would never allow his only son to enter into such a mésalliance."

Legolas' relief was apparent. Despite all the anxiousness a tiny smile flashed over Tauriel's face at the sight of it. "My father can give his consent or refuse it if he so chooses, but he can't actually forbid it," Legolas pointed out, but he did not manage to sound fully convinced. Tauriel shook her head and put her hand on his arm. "You wouldn't go against his will. I know how much his approval means to you – and that's a good thing, that's how it should be in a family. I definitely don't want to be the reason for a breach between you and your father." "And you won't!" he gave back, "He may be stubborn, but he's not a bad person. Eventually he'll understand. Don't be so pessimistic, it's not like you."

Tauriel had to admit the truth in that, yet she had better reasons than him to be worried. "It's easy for you to talk, you're not risking anything. You're his son, what is he going to do to you besides being angry for a while? I, on the other hand, am risking my position with the guard. He'll probably deploy me to some desolate outpost where I'll be left to rot until you forget me…"

Legolas rolled his eyes and interrupted her a little more impatiently than necessary, "Do you even hear yourself talking?" The combination of wine, anxiousness and exhaustion had pushed Tauriel to a point where even this little remark was enough to annoy her. She gave him a piercing glare and hissed, "Well, unlike yours, the outcome of my future depends on my own success or failure and I will not willingly risk my rank." Even while speaking she wished she could hold back the words, but it was too late.

Legolas' face froze and stayed completely vacant for an excruciatingly long while. Tauriel looked around and wondered how far away she was from the merry feast that was in full progress only a few feet from her. She glanced at Legolas and felt her cheeks flush crimson. Finally, after making a more than visible effort to regain his composure, he stated dryly, "I'm glad we're discussing our priorities so openly."

His words hit Tauriel like a morgul blade. She knew she deserved them and suddenly she wanted to say a thousand things to explain herself and to assure him that this was not about priorities but about a dilemma that she simply was not ready to resolve yet. She could not say any of it, the words refused to make sense in her mind. So she only shook her head and mumbled, "Can we please talk about this when we're both sober?"

She guessed that she looked like a picture of misery in that moment because Legolas' expression softened and a glimpse of a smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth. "When we're sober, you'll find a hundred excuses to avoid the subject," he pointed out as accurately as always. Tauriel shrugged; she did not feel able to argue. "You're right. And do you want to know why? Because I have no answer! I don't know what to do. I'm just as sick and tired of hiding as you are, but I don't want to lose everything I have worked for during the last a hundred and fifty years. Does that sound so absurd?"

He pondered the question for a minute, then he shook his head, suddenly not looking hostile at all anymore. "It doesn't, actually your concern is perfectly understandable." He took her hand and a bittersweet smile flashed over his face. "I bet there's a huge water damage on the wall in the Halls of Mandos where the tapestry with our story is supposed to hang and Vaire needs to weave in a few more obstacles to make it big enough to cover everything up." Tauriel could not help but laugh at that image. "I'm sure that's the exact reason," she replied and after a while she added, "Maybe you can do a little careful probing with your father…" Legolas nodded. "Yes, maybe – or maybe I won't. After all, things are not so bad the way they are now. And if he decides to confront me about it someday or another, at least now I will be prepared."

Tauriel smiled at him, still worried but once again struck by the realisation that any adversity the world could possibly throw at them was only half as frightening as long as they were together. She had already felt that way as a little elfling, whenever a parent or teacher had caught the two of them in a mischievous act, and since then no spider, no goblin and no intimidating king had been able to change it.

"Do you want to go back?" she asked and nodded in direction of the feast. "I'm not really in the mood," he answered. Tauriel sighed. "That makes two of us. Shall we go for a walk instead?" "And find this year's first spider?" "Possibly, although I would prefer no encounters at all. For the sake of… you know, discretion." She grinned and rolled her eyes. Legolas let out a chuckle, shook his head and followed her towards the main gate.


	15. Ashen Sage and Rosemary

_Hi, this is Margherita reporting back to you from Mirkwood :) This chapter is kind of sad and a bit gory. It also doesn't have a lot of new developments, but it explains some things that were mentioned before. From the next chapter on we're seriously going to move forward though. Thanks for your kind reviews and suggestions – I'll put them in as soon as the storyline allows it._

* * *

Four travellers stood huddled in the middle of the road, back to back, clasping their belongings and still trembling with shock, although the spiders had been dead for half an hour. After the border guard unit had eliminated the beasts, the corporal had sent out two of his soldiers to fetch the lieutenant. When he finally saw her approach, he saluted and showed her the unusual discovery his unit had made.

First of all Tauriel assured herself that no soldier was missing or injured, then she took a closer look at the unexpected visitors. She tilted her head at the strange sight of four terrified mortal men and their wooden handcarts in the middle of a dozen dead spider bodies. The men looked exhausted, slightly dirty and utterly helpless. Tauriel had not seen many mortals until then, but those she had encountered had looked more or less the same as the ones now in front of her.

She ordered two soldiers to drag the black carcasses off the road and pile them in the shadows beneath the trees where they would soon be found and eaten by Eru knew what other foul creature. After that she turned back to the four men who looked as if they had never heard a word about the dangers of Greenwood and the attack had hit them by complete surprise. She signalled the guard who was still pointing an arrow at them to lower his bow and noticed a sigh of relief going through the group.

"What business do you have in the Woodland Realm?" she inquired firmly, hoping that her rusty bits of Common Tongue would convey enough authority. Fortunately one glance into their frightened faces convinced her that she could just as well have recited a nursery rhyme and still gained their utmost respect. She could see the corporal's mouth twitch in a nearly invisible smirk. One of the men, apparently the leader of the party, judging by his age and attire, answered in a shaking voice and an accent so thick she had to process his words twice before she understood them, "We are merchants from Laketown and wish to pass through Mirkwood on our way to Rohan."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. Mirkwood. She hated it when her homeland was called that insulting name, especially by folks other than Eldar. She glanced at the corporal, who did not seem less displeased, but both refrained from lecturing the men because there were more urgent issues to be dealt with. "From Esgaroth?" Tauriel repeated, "Then you should be familiar with the dangers of Greenwood the Great, should you not?" The men did not answer but it was obvious that Tauriel's words made them even more uncomfortable. "And yet you travel unprotected and without proper weapons," she continued, assessing each one of them warily. One could not be careful enough in these parts of the forest!

"Do you even have a leave to cross our borders?" she wanted to know. The man who had spoken before now nodded. "We travel under the general mercantile leave granted by the Elvenking." He fiddled around in the pocket of his jerkin and produced a tattered envelope that bore the king's seal. Tauriel took it from him and checked its validity, then she asked, "What goods are you carrying?" "F-furs," was the stuttered answer, "and leather." On Tauriel's signal the corporal and another guard lifted the heavy covers off the handcarts. They did indeed contain nothing but the indicated merchandise and some food.

Tauriel handed the envelope back to the old man with a short nod. "Very well. You seem to be extraordinarily optimistic, or simply foolish, to wander these paths. You may continue if you wish so, but the Woodland guard will not take responsibility for your safety. Those spiders," she gestured in direction of the cadavers," will not be your last unpleasant encounter, nor the worst. I advise you to leave the forest and travel around it instead."

One of the younger men gulped heavily, leaned over to his leader and whispered, "That's exactly what the master said. We should listen to the elf!" "Nonsense!" it came back from a third man, "Going around would take us three times as long. Besides, you should never take council from elves." Tauriel and the corporal shared a sarcastic eye-rolling but kept their mouths shut. "I prefer losing time to losing my life!" the fourth man now interjected, "I have a wife and children at home!"

Tauriel watched quietly as a heated argument flared up among the travellers. She could not help but wonder at their exaggerated way of gesturing, the irritating ups and downs of their voices and their general emotionality. No Elda would ever get carried away in such an embarrassing manner during a simple discussion. Tauriel herself had often been considered a rather hot-headed elleth, but what she was witnessing now exceeded every standard she had ever been measured by.

She exchanged another look with the corporal who got her hint and planted himself in front of the quarrelling Lakemen. Tauriel noticed with surprise that he was more than a hand's breadth taller than the tallest of them – until then she had not seen how short they were without the direct comparison. Mortal men, what a strange race! They did not fail to astonish her every single time she saw them.

"Enough already!" the corporal interrupted the quarrel, "We do not have all night. What is your decision?" His imposing tone, or maybe it was rather the sight of his bow and blades, did not miss its aim; they immediately fell silent. Tauriel threw a questioning look at the leader and mentally crossed her fingers for them to make the right choice. If it were not for the stupid leave, she would not have hesitated a minute to simply force them out of the forest. If they stayed, they would most certainly meet a more than unpleasant ending soon enough and Tauriel did not fancy having to explain that to the captain, or worse, the king. Finally the oldest Lakeman grumbled something unintelligible into his scruffy beard before he addressed her, "We will take your advice and leave the forest." His companions nodded in agreement.

Tauriel ordered the guards to return to their watch posts and informed the corporal that she herself was going to accompany the travellers to the border. He was not too thrilled by the notion of his lieutenant venturing into the forest all alone. He remembered too well what had happened to her predecessor due to a very similar idea and he voiced his concern as politely as he could. "Will you at least take one or two soldiers with you?" he asked carefully. Tauriel gave him a reassuring smile. "I'd rather go by myself. After setting the travellers on the right path, I intend to take care of another matter. A personal one," she explained. His face reflected his confusion.

Tauriel slightly shifted her body so that the Lakemen could not see what she produced from her beltbag. They would probably not know what it meant anyway, but she did not feel like sharing it with them. She opened her hand and showed the corporal a tiny bunch of dried rosemary and sage. Understanding flashed over his face, as well as a look of compassion. "I see," he said quietly, "We will stay close, just in case."

* * *

Amril watched attentively as the young healer wrapped the white linen bandage firmly around the broken wrist of this evening's last patient. She did well, as he observed with satisfaction, and she would soon be ready to perform simple tasks like this one without supervision. Amril had set the bones and applied the soothing ointment, but although it would have saved him a lot of time to do the bandaging himself as well, he had given the girl the opportunity to practise her skills once more.

He glanced nervously at the hourglass on the shelf right next to him. The white sand was running a little too fast for his liking. He had an appointment that he did not wish to be late for.

"Very good," he praised the young healer's work when she was finally done, "this looks excellent." He was not exaggerating, that bandage would endure a journey to the Halls of Mandos and back if it was not going to be taken off after a week for a routine control… Amril stopped and wondered at the metaphor his mind had just created by accident. Well, his upcoming appointment was definitely distracting him. He forced himself to concentrate for one more moment.

"We thank you for your trust and wish you a quick recovery," he addressed the patient who thanked the healers in return and rose carefully. Amril accompanied him to the door and reminded him to come back the following week, then he bid him goodbye and turned back to his apprentice. "You did very well today and I could tell the patients felt the same way. Next time someone comes in with a broken bone, I will let you try and reset it." He collected the utensils from the treatment table and put half of them back into their containers on the shelf while the girl, failing to hide her pride about her mentor's praise, put the rest of them into a basket by the door that a nurse would soon take away for cleaning.

Amril threw another look at the hourglass. "I'm sorry to leave in such a hurry," he apologised to his protégé, "but I have an urgent appointment tonight. If you have any more questions about today's treatments, please remember them until tomorrow." "Of course," she replied with a shy smile, "Thank you and have a pleasant even-… Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." She stopped and bit her lip, her cheeks turning red at the realisation of the inappropriate wish she had just offered him. Amril, who was already at the door, turned around and took one more moment to reassure her. "There is no need to apologise. It will not be a very grievous encounter." He gave her an encouraging nod and left the room.

When he reached the exit of the healing quarters, his mother was already waiting for him in the last rays of sunlight. She smiled at him warmly and he was relieved to see her this calm and collected. She handed him one of the two little bunches of rosemary and sage she was holding, along with a burning candle in a glass. "Shall we go?" she asked. He nodded and offered her his arm.

* * *

'Eru help me, he's going to murder me and make it look like a tragic accident,' Legolas thought while he was rushing along the corridor that led to the king's quarters, struggling to undo the straps of his armour as he walked. He had planned on returning to the palace an hour earlier than he had actually managed, due to an unexpected incident in the forest involving two missing soldiers, who, by the way, also happened to be his friends. They had eventually been recovered safe and sound and Legolas' relief was beyond words, but now he was late and bound to face his father's disappointment – which was nothing compared to his own.

There was one evening in the course of the year when he was supposed to be back on time, only one. Throughout the whole year no one, not even his father, cared when or if he returned at night. But of course it had to be this one specific occasion that saw him hurrying, almost running through the palace and still not making it on time.

He did not stop in his own chambers to get rid of the armour and freshen up after his patrol. When he reached the king's quarters, he took a deep breath, braced himself to receive his father's well-deserved anger and knocked on the door. Galion came to open it and threw a pitiful look at the prince. Apparently his exhaustion and distress were plain to see. The butler let him enter the antechamber and discreetly handed him a dried bunch of sage and rosemary, which Legolas accepted with a grateful yet troubled smile.

"How is he?" the prince asked in a hushed voice and nodded in direction of the king's private chambers, "What am I throwing myself into?" Galion tilted his head and showed a doubtful yet caring expression. "He is not too pleased, as you may expect, but he has been busy as well, so the waiting may not have inconvenienced him entirely." He took the prince's armour, which Legolas had finally managed to unstrap, and signalled him to wipe a last mud stain off his chin before facing the king. Legolas nodded his thanks once again, then he stepped into the lion's den.

"My lord – father," he greeted the king who was standing by the fireplace with his back turned to him. He spun around and looked at his son in silence, obviously waiting for an explanation, which Legolas hurried to provide. "I apologise for my lateness. I was kept in the forest by an emergency. Two soldiers went missing…" "And the guard was unable to deal with the matter on its own?" The king's voice cut through Legolas' apology like a newly forged blade. "I-I am sorry, father," was all he managed to say after that, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. Thranduil did not grace his son's amends with one more moment of his attention, but Legolas sensed that his own disappointment at himself had not gone unnoticed and was deemed to be enough punishment. "Are you ready to leave?" the king simply asked while he lit a candle from the embers of the fireplace and set it into a glass lantern. Legolas took the bunch of sage and rosemary out of his pocket, thanking every Ainu for the existence of Galion, and nodded. "Then let us not waste any more time," Thranduil said and walked towards the door.

* * *

The stone cairn above the grave was covered with moss and tiny white flowers. The branches of the surrounding willow trees were gently swaying in the wind and the river murmured an eternal quiet lament. It was a peaceful place that Legolas visited from time to time when he was looking for solitude. However, every year during nightfall on the Day of Mandos he went there together with his father to honour the memory of Lady Merilissel, queen of the Woodland Realm.

It was said that during the hour of twilight on this particular day Mandos allowed the souls of the Eldar who had left this world behind to look back at those who still dwelt among the living. No one knew if it was true, but it was customary for the people of the Woodland Realm to visit the graves of their loved ones, burn a bunch of dried sage and rosemary and remember those who had passed to the next world.

Legolas looked up at the delicate statue of smooth grey marble that guarded the grave. It bore the features of his mother and it was the only image of her that was not hidden away in a storage room somewhere in the remote parts of the palace. His father could not bear to look at her every day, as the prince well knew. He lifted his right hand above his heart and bowed his head as a respectful greeting to Mandos as well as the deceased. So did Thranduil before he set his lantern on the ground.

Both of them stayed silent for a while, listening to the sound of the water and the wind. Merilissel had loved the river because it had reminded her of her home by the seaside, far away in the West. Legolas remembered the wondrous stories about the ocean, about majestic ships, brave sailors and strange underwater creatures that she had told him as a little elfling. He had never understood her longing for the water back then, but now he could imagine how much she had missed the sea, the wind and the sun during all the years that she had spent beneath the trees of Greenwood. Nevertheless he remembered her as a happy woman, radiant with life and full of love for her family and the people of the Woodland Realm whom she had adopted as her own.

He often thought about her but she had been gone for so long and he had been so young that he did not actually miss her. She was a part of him and would always be in his heart but the memories did not hurt anymore. A quiet smile spread over Legolas' face and he looked over to his father.

The king's gaze was fixed upon the stone cairn but he did not see anything that was visible to his son's eyes. He did not want to look at the beautifully crafted statue because even after all these years it was still painful to see her face. Merilissel – she had been the sunshine to his days and the starlight to his nights. Her wisdom, strength and serenity had helped him be a good king and a good man.

Since she was gone his world had descended into darkness. He had never been the most cheerful sort of person, but losing her had turned him into a man he barely recognised and even hated from time to time. He had gotten used to being without her and over the years his grief had changed from an all-consuming fire into a consistent but bearable pain. For decades that pain had been the only thing to remind him that he was still alive and that he needed to stay that way another good while, for his people, for his realm and of course for his son.

He glanced at Legolas who was contemplating the statue in silence. Finally he also lifted his eyes up to the image and felt the pain rise in his chest as he contemplated the delicately carved stone face that was almost too much like the original for his taste. He saw it every day, reflected in the features of his son, the child they had postponed to have for centuries, only to let him grow up without a mother in the end.

Thranduil knew all too well that he was not the father he had always wanted to be. When Legolas had been an elfling, he had not dedicated half as much time to him as he should have. He felt guilty for it because Legolas was the one thing in the world that he loved with every fibre of his being, even though he did not show it to him often enough.

He had grown up so quickly – and so much – that it almost scared Thranduil. Where was the cheeky elfling who had haunted the palace with his mischief and filled the dark corridors with his laughter? Legolas had become a warrior and a ruler, serious and dutiful like his father and grandfather, but deep inside he also possessed his mother's playfulness and kind heart which he hardly ever showed to Thranduil anymore. He should have encouraged that side of his son's personality a lot more than he had.

Their eyes met for a moment and Thranduil managed a weak smile that Legolas returned with much more warmth than his father felt he deserved. He took his bunch of sage and rosemary out of his pocket and threw a questioning look at Legolas. On his nod of agreement he picked up the candle and lit the dried herbs on fire before he held out the candle for Legolas to do the same. The dead leaves were consumed by the flames and released a sweet-smelling cloud of smoke into the mild evening air. Thranduil was not even sure why it was tradition to burn these herbs on the Day of Mandos, but he assumed that their scent should tell the souls of the departed that someone was thinking of them. They placed the burning herbs onto the cairn where the flames slowly faded and left two tiny piles of ash.

In a nearby tree a nightingale started to sing. If Thranduil had believed in miracles, he might have taken it as a sign that Merilissel was with them. Legolas smiled and after a while he remarked without premonition, "She could not sing half as well as the bird she was named after." Thranduil needed a moment to follow his son's train of thought, but then he grasped it and could not help but chuckle a little. "True, her parents certainly meant well in naming her after the nightingale, but I found an excuse to leave the room every night when she used to sing you to sleep. I was quite relieved when we switched to bedtime stories."

Legolas grinned. "She always told you off for reading all those horrible stories about bloody battles to me." "You remember that?" the king asked in surprise and, desperately clinging on to these happy memories instead of letting the sad ones overwhelm him, he added, "Well, she told me off about a lot of things. For example, when I took you hunting for the first time and you fell off the horse…" "To be fair, you did drop me," Legolas interjected, "But granted, I was like a swarm of confused sparrows as a child, I certainly gave her enough headaches."

Thranduil took a step towards Legolas and put his hand on his shoulder. The prince's posture stiffened for a moment but then he relaxed. "Words cannot express how proud she would be of you," Thranduil said softly. "And of you," Legolas gave back after a while.

* * *

When the two little bunches of sage and rosemary had turned into ash on the stones of his father's grave, Amril looked over to his mother. She was still holding the candle in her hands and had a sad smile on her face. A single tear made its way down her cheek and lingered in the corner of her mouth for a moment before she wiped it away and took a deep breath. "So, what would you like to hear this year?" she asked a little too cheerfully for Amril to believe her.

He scratched his head and glanced up into the thick foliage of the oak tree that towered over the grave. As many leaves as he could see up there, as many stories about his father he had already heard. Every year on the Day of Mandos his mother told him one more. It was a tradition they had established as soon as Amril had been old enough to understand that there had once been another member of his family who was not with them anymore. He had only been two years old when his father had died, so all he had left were one or two blurry memories, or maybe they were just images of his mother's stories that he believed to remember himself.

As a child he had felt bad for not having a father while all his friends had one. There had been no one to take him out into the forest to hunt rabbits, no one to teach him how to shoot, no one to play any rough boys' games with him that would have given his mother palpitations if she had ever found out. Of course Nimiel had done her best to make up for the situation and Amril could rightly state that his childhood had been very happy. He had spent lots of time at the Houses of Healing and the other healers had adopted him in a way, so there had been more than enough substitute father figures in his life. However, his mother had made sure he never lost his connection with his own father and Amril was grateful for it.

"I don't know," he answered cluelessly, "Is there even anything left that you haven't told me yet?" "There are hundreds of things left," she gave back and sat down on the leaf-covered ground. Amril joined her, still thinking intensely, but then an idea crossed his mind, "You never told me how you actually met him." Nimiel looked surprised. "Did I not? Well, then this will be our story for tonight," she decided. She set the candle on the ground and contemplated the flickering light for a moment, then she began to speak.

"When the forest started to grow dark, our people left the old capital at Amon Lanc and moved to the caves, as you know. They were crude and inhospitable and it took decades to make them habitable, not to mention turn them into the beautiful palace they harbour now. We had set up the Houses of Healing provisionally and during many years we shared our workplace with lots of craftsmen who were still making necessary improvements to every part of the new capital.

Every morning I walked past a building site where carpenters were fitting the most beautifully crafted wooden shelves and cabinets into those parts of the healing quarters that now serve as our storage rooms. I always stopped to admire the progress and exchanged a few friendly words with the carpenters. They were pleasant fellows, as far as I remember, but there was one among them who never said a single word to me and pretended to be terribly busy whenever he saw me approach.

Then one day, while I was just finishing my ward round, I heard an infernal rumbling and shouting and when I arrived at the building site a part of the shelf system had collapsed and buried one of the apprentice carpenters under itself. He was not too gravely injured, in fact he had suffered no more than a few scratches and a dislocated shoulder. But of course everyone was in uproar, mostly so his older brother, who happened to be the one who had refused to acknowledge my presence until then.

After we had fixed the boy's shoulder, we kept him in our care for a few more days. During that time his brother visited him as often as he could, much to the boy's annoyance, and, believe it or not, suddenly he also started to speak to me. He asked me all sorts of silly questions about his brother's condition and found a new excuse to engage me in a conversation every day. To be honest, he did not need to make much of an effort to win me over. When his brother had eventually been released, he even sought medical help for himself – to bandage the most ridiculously harmless cut on his hand. That was when I told him that he could just as well ask me to meet him after work. I really did not want to risk any more health damage for the sake of romance. Well, he fulfilled my request that same evening and, to cut this story short, two years later we were wed."

She glanced into the flame of the candle once more and allowed her memories of Arasdaer to carry her away for a moment. His laughter, his mischievous smile, his kindness, his down-to-earth character and his love for crafting beautiful things just for the sake of creating them – she missed all of that. At first she had struggled to accept her fate, but eventually she had understood that there was no use in cursing the Valar for their judgements. So she made the best of the time she had been given, cherishing the happy memories and taking strength from them, as she knew Arasdaer would have wanted her to. She had so much to be grateful for – first and foremost her children, but also lots of wonderful friends and of course her lifework, the Houses of Healing. So yes, she was content and did not hold any more grudges against the past.

Amril chuckled and woke her from her thoughts by observing, "Not the worst love story I've ever heard. Using his brother's injury as an excuse to get closer to a woman – truth be told, he has my utmost respect for that." Now Nimiel started giggling as well and added, "Apparently his companions had already started to make fun of his shyness. He later admitted to me that under different circumstances he would never have addressed a Sinda, let alone the head healer, in such a manner. So, in a way, ion nin, you owe your life to a poorly attached shelf."

Amril gave her an ironic frown. By now he could tell that her serenity was not an act anymore and it made him glad to see her reconciled with the bitter fate she had to bear. He could not imagine what he would do if his wife was taken from him. He lost himself in that terrifying idea for a moment, but then he noticed that his mother was assessing him worriedly.

"What is it?" she asked and put her hand lightly on his arm. He shook his head and gave back, "Nothing, just a gloomy thought." He smiled at her, but he knew that it would not convince her, so he added, "I wonder how life can go on if you lose the one you have pledged your heart and soul to." Nimiel looked to the ground and said quietly, "It has to go on. And even though we have to bid a loved one farewell, a part of them remains with us forever. Love does not simply end with death."

Amril nodded slowly. "So you would agree with those who say that it is reprehensible if someone falls in love again after losing their spouse – hypothetically?" He had merely asked the question out of meaningless curiosity, so he was more than bewildered when his mother gave him a look of utter shock. "What?" she snapped in a tone of voice that was completely atypical for her, only to regain her composure a second later, "I mean… I do not know. It is not my place to judge the deeds and feelings of others."

Amril apologised for his tactless question. Undoubtedly he had hurt his mother's sense of dignity by thoughtlessly speaking about such an unseemly subject to her – at the grave of his father! What had he been thinking? He advised himself to ponder his words more carefully from now on.

* * *

The coppice was thick and thorny and Tauriel had to stop at every five steps to untangle herself from a root or an ivy twine. She had not yet decided which one she preferred, creeping through this mess of trees and bushes in the dark or walking along the path in the company of four quarrelling, smelly Lakemen, as she had done before. She had accompanied them to the border and shown them the shortest and safest way out of the forest; what happened to them now was none of her business and she was glad about it.

She stopped for a moment and looked around. Truth be told, she had no idea where exactly she was, but she was sure that the Southern Demarcation Line already lay behind her. Strictly speaking, leaving the borders of the realm during duty was not allowed, but Tauriel figured that she could make an exception once a year. The corporal would not tell on her and as long as she did not run into a hungry spider swarm she would be back before anyone missed her.

After a few more minutes she noticed that her tiresome journey had come to a successful ending: The weathered and ivy-covered ruins of several small buildings and the lack of tall trees where there had once been a tiny village square told her that she had found the remains of her childhood home.

It was strange to come back every year and observe its steady decay. She remembered what her life had been like in this modest settlement. More than three centuries had passed since then and still the sight of the ruins made so many images appear in Tauriel's mind that she had to fight them back in order to not get carried away. She could not risk losing her vigilance, alone in a place like this.

She paid homage to Mandos by raising her hand to her heart and bowing her head before she worked her way to the rests of the second hut on the left. Three walls were still distinguishable beneath the numerous layers of vegetation that had reconquered the settlement. Tauriel crouched down by what she remembered to be the doorstep. She freed it from the ivy twines that had grown back since she had done the same a year before. Out of her beltbag she took a flint and the bunch of dried sage and rosemary. She placed it carefully on the doorstep, then she drew a small and rather pitted knife out of her boot and smashed the flint against the blade until a spark fell on the dried herbs and lit them on fire.

Tauriel breathed in the scent of the burning leaves and looked around once more. Granted, what she was doing there was not exactly the right way of marking the Day of Mandos, but there were no graves for her to visit. The bodies of her relatives had never been recovered – one could say anything about the giant spiders of Greenwood but they could not be blamed of wastefulness.

When the herbs had turned to ash, Tauriel took another deep breath and started to whisper into the dark. "Good evening, Ada and Nana, grandfather, grandmother, uncle… It's me again. Not much of a surprise, I know. How are you holding up in the Halls of Mandos?

For me nothing has changed since the last time we spoke. I'm still with the border guard, still in possession of all my limbs and still trying to keep the forest clean as best I can. I know you probably won't care too much anymore, but we're holding the spiders in bay quite well at the moment. Nevertheless they keep multiplying, as well as the orcs and wargs and all the other filth that creeps out of Dol Guldur. Yes, Nana, I brought my weapons, don't worry.

So much for my work. Admit it, Ada, you are a tiny bit proud of me, aren't you? I mean, even after you had left the forest guard to marry Nana and settle down here as a hunter, you always told me how you used to slay horrible beasts and roam the forest with your comrades. Most of it was monstrously exaggerated, that much I know by now, but after all it was one of the reasons that made me take that entrance test two hundred and fifty years ago, so it's partly because of your stories that the southern division has to cope with me now.

Nana, listen to this: I made woodruff lemonade again this summer and it almost tasted like yours! You don't have to tell me how silly it is, but I have the ambition to find out your secret recipe. It reminds me of you, so I'll keep trying although I'm still absolutely worthless when it comes to cooking. At least Legolas said he liked my lemonade and coming from him that certainly means something.

Before you ask, grandmother: No, I'm still not married, yes, I know that I qualify as a spinster, and no, I still don't mind. Sorry to disappoint you in this matter.

Grandfather, uncle, since you always talked about your journeys to the market of Esgaroth where you used to sell your ironwork: Today I came across some merchants from there who almost got themselves killed in our forest. They were unarmed – can you believe that? Well, every time I see a mortal man, I remember how much the two of you used to wonder about their strange ways and I can't say I blame you."

Tauriel stopped and felt her lips curl into a smile. She knew that she was talking complete and utter nonsense and that the only ones that could hear her were the black butterflies and the sleepy owl in the beech above her head. The popular belief about the souls of the dead coming back on the Day of Mandos was most likely nothing but superstition. Still, this was Tauriel's way of remembering her family and it was the only way she had.

She picked up her knife and flint and put them back where they belonged, then she rose and walked across the former village square. It barely took her ten steps – as a child everything had seemed so much bigger to her. She came to the miserable rests of her grandfather's smithy and allowed the memories to resurge. Hot fumes emerging from the open door and windows, the clanking of hammers on metal, the beautiful yet frightening glow of red-hot iron… She had loved to observe her grandfather and uncle during their work. She touched the clasp that held her cloak together, a delicately forged beech leaf made of copper. It was the only item she possessed to remind her of them and she had worn it ever since the last day she had seen them.

She noticed a piece of cobweb on her cloak and quickly wiped it away. Her grandmother would have reprimanded her for walking around like this. She had been a seamstress and therefore very attentive to people's attire. Tauriel had been a hopeless student when it came to fine needlework, but she had liked to help her grandmother wind colourful threads and iron pieces of fabric.

Her mother had never paid much attention to Tauriel's clothes because she herself had been covered in leaves, pieces of tree bark and clods of earth most of the time. If there was indeed such a thing as a green thumb, she had possessed it by the greatest possible extent. She had known every plant in the forest by name and effect and Tauriel swore that she had never tasted any vegetables half as delicious as the ones her mother had grown.

It was strange that a woman who had loved every growing life in the forest so much should have married a hunter of all people. Tauriel smiled without noticing when she thought about her father. She had loved all her family, but her Ada had probably been the most important person to her. He had taken her hunting, shown her how to read the tracks of rabbits and deer, told her stories of enchanted forests and magical animals – but most importantly he had taught her to stand her ground and take care of herself when it was necessary. 'Stop turning my little girl into a warrior," her mother had demanded playfully from time to time and her grandmother had often reproached him, 'Remember, you have a daughter, not a son!', but her father had only laughed at their complaints.

Tauriel chuckled to herself more loudly than intended. A mistake, as she noticed immediately. Inside the plant-covered ruin of the smithy she could hear a noise that did not belong there. She reached for her daggers and stayed immobile for a moment. It could be a harmless forest animal that had found refuge in the old building, but it could just as well be something worse, something that she would certainly not allow to lurk in the home of her family.

She picked up a stone from the ground and tossed it into the ruin. A rustling and an angry hissing told her that her intuition had not fooled her. She switched from daggers to bow and took a few steps backwards. 'Eru help me,' she thought, glancing nervously at the other buildings and hoping that not all of them were infested. She did not have to wait more than a minute until the first bristled black leg emerged from the thick coppice. Not hesitating a moment, Tauriel released an arrow to where she assumed the rest of the body. The spider shrieked and collapsed before it had even left its hiding place.

The noise provoked an immediate uproar in the old smithy. 'Wonderful, just what I needed tonight,' Tauriel stated to herself and got ready to shoot again. She quickly turned her head and checked the rest of the houses, noticing with relief that there was no further movement to be detected.

The next spider made its way out of the hut, but this time Tauriel waited until it came out and faced her. She had seen hundreds of these beasts in the last centuries, yet in this particular place it felt entirely different. The screams, the blood, the panic – every memory of that summer evening three centuries ago was still as clear as daylight. Pale spider eyes had stared at her exactly the same way as they were doing now. 'Let's turn the tables this time, shall we?' Tauriel thought and felt a cold smile spread over her face.

The spider was rather big and slow, as Tauriel observed while she was still standing immobile in the middle of the square. The creature clicked its fangs; it was probably rejoicing in the prospect of elf meat for dinner. When Tauriel saw two more beasts crawl out of the coppice a lot faster than their companion, she finally broke her contemplation and released the arrow. The big spider reared up when the shaft pierced its throat, but Tauriel knew it would not have the strength to attack her after this shot.

The others, however, approached her quickly and hissed at her in fury – the strangest thought crossed Tauriel's mind at the sight of them: What if she had just killed a beloved relative of theirs? What if spiders had family bonds as well? They did have a language, after all… She pushed the thought away. This was indeed the worst possible moment to debate on such a topic.

The spiders were now at arm's length from her and Tauriel could have killed them with two quick movements, but for some reason she did not want to do that. Not here. Those beasts did not deserve such mercy. She ducked down in the very last moment and caused the infuriated spiders to run past her in confusion. She rose, drew one of her daggers and threw it with as much force as she could. It cracked the left spider's back shell – Tauriel could not help but congratulate herself on this success because it was not easy to break the beasts' thick armour and normally she only managed to ruin her blades in such attempts. From the spot where the dagger had landed several cracks expanded over the spider's back. The beast started stumbling around clumsily, shrieking and hissing – obviously it was in pain. 'You're welcome,' Tauriel thought.

The second spider chose to attack her by darting towards her and aiming for her legs. She took a quick sideway step and leapt onto its back. The startled creature bucked up and tried to get rid of her, but Tauriel held on to its neck and quickly stabbed it in all of its eyes one after another. It reared up and Tauriel jumped back to the ground, watching its last moments of helpless panic and agony with an ice-cold satisfaction that she had never felt before.

She walked up to the other beast that had stopped stumbling around and was now lying on the ground with twitching legs. She grabbed her dagger that was still inside its back and twisted it once to the left and once to the right, then she pulled it out. Thick dark blood poured out of the wound and the beast gave its final shriek before it fell silent.

Tauriel contemplated the carcasses for a moment while she wiped the blood off her blades. She almost wanted to be horrified at the cruelty with which she had slaughtered those beasts and expected the most painful feeling of remorse to strike her any minute. It did not. Silently she sheathed her daggers, bowed her head to Mandos once more and started her way back into the forest.


End file.
